


Get out alive

by sketzocase



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Dark Wolverine (Comics), She-Hulk, Wolverine (Comics), Wolverines (Comics), X-23 (Comic), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Court Drama, Dark, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Family Drama, Forced Medication, Forced mental treatment, Hallucinations, Kidnapping Attempt, Lawyers, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Disorders, Mental Health Issues, Mental health drama, Overdosing, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Past Violence, Psychological Trauma, Psychosis, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempts, Talk of Suicide Attempts, a little dark, court ordered guardian, dental treatment, mental health recovery, mentions of rape/non con, please heed the warnings, telepathic intrusions, warnings given at every chapter, warnings given before each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-06-26 17:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 95,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15668301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketzocase/pseuds/sketzocase
Summary: Fighting for your life is hard no matter how you slice it. Some people's fight is a little more... complicated than it seems. Because when the enemy is their own mind- how can you possibly stop them and keep them safe at the same time? A question that plagues the Howlett family- what do we do? How do we do it? and more importantly- is it worth doing? It seems that hard decisions will have to be made and lives will be altered. With a mysterious ailment that is not talked about enough, a court case, a kidnapping, and a few too many suicide attempts- they’ve got no choice but to band together- or fall apart.





	1. Why are you here?

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a talk with some of my friends and family- really good talk.  
> I think I’ve mentioned it several times but if I haven’t- I have a severe mental disorder. I have my whole life. My view of things is skewed. So I got their views of things and got this idea to show a story about mental illness from all points- the outsider, the afflicted, the caretakers, the family members, the lovers- and mash it all together in one little fic.  
> SO multiple POV’s. It sounds darker than it is, but I will post warnings. 
> 
> I want to write about a family getting better. Hopefully it comes out like that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains hallucinations, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts, Overdosing, painkillers, drug abuse, troubled narrator, medical tests, stuff like that.

If there is one sentence I am sick of hearing more than any other sentence in the entirety of the human language- it would be ‘do you know why you’re here?’

It’s on the tip of everyone’s tongue. Dripping with their own personal inflictions and dialects.

Why are you here? Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?

I don’t know. I don’t know. And I don’t care to know.

Millions of seconds spent in dead silence as they try to get me to answer things I myself don’t understand.

If I have no understanding of a topic- how can I possible converse about it?

I'm not one to wax poetic to complete idiots about why I think I ended up in this position.

When it comes to the real honest explanation of this? I simply... don't have it.

I have suspicions- but I wanted to wait until the doctor got back to me with the results of the many tests I took.

Scanning my brain for any abnormalities. As if my actions weren't already a tale-tell sign of something being 'wrong'.

I can't keep it together. And god- I'm trying. I'm holding on with literally all of my might. It's just... not working. No matter how hard or long I fight- I always end back up in the position. Round and round and round I go in life- never once getting ahead. Only falling behind and then being put back where I started.

My 'symptoms' are proof of that.

Every time they resurface- they control my fucking life- eventually trying to take it.

I understand that the doctor in charge of my health and well being is only trying to stop the eventual end. The end where I take my own life- successfully.

Over and over he asks and worries and frets- and I can't appease his fears. I know I'll try again. I'm going to keep trying until it works.

It's the only way to end my situation that appeases the ones I'm trying to appease.

All they ask for is my life.

At first, the command confused me. But I caught on quickly.

The doctor's not the first to deal with me like this.

A very, very, very long time ago- I had very similar symptoms.

It could have been a lifetime ago. When they resurfaced, I knew immediately what it was.

But what could I say? I can't explain it in the simplest of terms. How can I make them understand what I myself don't?

I was never actually told what it was exactly. Just given vague information and painful, painful, actions.

I couldn't fight it then any more than I can fight it now. It's the equivalent of dry rot. Decay. Decline. An abolishing of all rational thought.

If it was I think it is- and I'm probably right- I am, simply put, fucked. Royally fucked. So fucked that I won't be able to unfuck myself.

Of course, this all depends on the outcome of those tests. Those precious, precious, tests.

I've waited as patiently as I can. But my patience is not without limits. And I am very quickly approaching that said limit.

Today's actually been a worse day than two days ago. And that? That's saying something.

I am at the mercy of something I do not understand and do not want to ask for help for.

The room I’m in is small. Being in an ER wing of a hospital, I didn't expect much else. The bed- a hospital bed on wheels- sits in the corner by a barred window. This isn't a psych ward- they added the bars my first night here. For my protection- they claimed. To the side of the window is a phone on the wall. One they’ve been begging me to use. To the right of the phone is the bathroom. Smaller than any other one I’ve ever been in. No shower, no tub, a very small sink- it’s a bathroom in name only. As far as function goes- It does not suit its purpose.

I’ve been here for two days. Unexplained. No one will tell me the answers to the questions they keep asking me. I’m starting to think they don’t know either.

That we’re just talking to fill up space.

I can’t stand that. What’s the point of speaking if you have nothing valuable to say?

It's the damn circle I was talking about. Round and round and round. Over and over and over. Same questions- different day. Same doctor- different questions.

Until I get my results- I'm stuck here.

In this dark little room, in this cramped little bed, siphoning off pain meds until they kick me out for not having money to pay for my stay.

The American Health Care system is one of the most fucked I've ever witnessed. I'm glad I don't necessarily need health care to be healthy. if I had to pay for any of this- I'd have gone broke much faster than I did. Not that I'm not broke now. I just would have gotten there faster had I reached out for help when it started.

I'm not one to ask for something I don't think I need.

I'd rather not have help with this.

All I want is the results of the tests. They'll give a direction to go in. Whether it be 'get healthy again' or 'brace yourself for the storm'- I just need information.

If this shit hole doctor can give it to me- I'll have to take it any fashion he decides to dish out.

Once again- my life is not in my own hands. Not that I've done much for it when left to my own devices, however.

Two days I've laid in this bed, thinking. Trying to rest on and off- but of course, I'm not allowed to.

Not by the hospital's means- but by my own mind.

My 'visitors'. My demons. My tormentors.

Invisible to the observer.

No one gets to witness this horror but me.

And that? That is more frightening than I could possibly put into words.

The room is cold. Shadows dance off small lights coming from the bed and heart rate monitors. The monitors were shut off when I argued that my heart would be okay and that the beeping was keeping me awake. Eventually- they backed off and took me at my word.

In the dark, it's hard to tell what the colors of the room are. It's getting late. In the evening the muted colors of the day turn to blue. Everything is a different shade- but all the same hue. Outside the window, there is a small amount of light coming in from the parking lot. It's well lit out there. Lest someone gets hurt by someone else and end back up in here.

The room is smaller than I think necessary. I think they do this to cut down on costs. Less space to heat means lower electricity bills.

It's not terribly cold yet, but fall is fast approaching. They're going to need the heat very soon.

The bed that I'm contained within houses several features I’m not fond of. A monitor- for starters- not of the heart variety. Of the eavesdropping variety. They want to hear what I’m saying- since I’m not saying anything with them in the room. Straps- for when they ‘fear for my safety’. And finally, an IV tower that houses a variety of tubes and hoses they plug into my skin to pump me full of whatever pointless liquid they seem to fancy using at the moment. It changes from shift to shift. I think they’re running out of ideas.

If I were in their position- I would have thrown in the towel on the first night.

I barely remember that night. Really- all I remember is the lights. Lots of lights.

One would almost be able to claim alien abduction.

I did not recognize the humans around me and I did not recognize the creature they were observing.

The other me. The me I'm turning into faster and faster.

I see him in my thoughts. The thing I was when this first happened. Young. Scared. Mad. Wild. Out of my mind.

Everything I swore I would never be.

If it were to happen again- I'd be better off dead.

They refuse to see my side of the story, however. The 'them' being the first responders and the police that abducted me. I've yet to speak to the hospital staff during this particular stay.

I'm trying to find the words to tell them. My mind just won't cooperate. It just spins. Over and over again. Round and round we go.

This fucked up merry-go-round.

God. I'm making myself sick with this thinking. With these useless thoughts.

I need rest. If I'm going to fight him off- I need rest.

The him I'm referring to his the one no one can see.

He watches me. Coaches me. Tells me what to do.

Ignoring him is simply not an option.

There’s a knock at the door. I vaguely turn my head in that direction. They don’t usually bother with knocking.

The door squeaks open, emitting a man of very small stature into the room. Short, thin, redheaded, and pale. The man is a very odd person to look at.

He nods to me, holding a chart in his hands. “I’m told you haven’t spoken yet.” He says. “Well, spoken with us in the room." he clarifies. "Our monitors do pick up your... chatter. Which comes more and more frequently as of late."

I let him stew in his stupid sentences.

"Why won't you speak?" He asks.

Why? Because I don't have to. That's why.

"You don't eat, you don't sleep, you don't speak- it's very perplexing. The not speaking, though, is somewhat surprising to me. Your situation would be so much better if you’d tell us what happened. You don't like it when we speak about you, but you won't give us anything to go off of.” He says.

He waits.

Why bother?

"May I turn the light on?" He asks.

I think about it before nodding.

He flips the switch on the wall, sending the room into its shitty lit state. "Much better." He says.

I want to ask his name. I don't know it.

I'm sure he told me when they first brought me in- but I don't remember at this point.

"I need you to give me some information." He says. "At this point- it is a necessity."

I stare at him blankly.

he shakes his head. "Fine. I'll continue as best I can without." He clears his throat." I have the results of the tests we ran.” He says. “The cat scan? MRI? Those tests. Surely you want them.”

I nod. He is granted my attention.

"Do you want them enough to speak?" he asks.

I stare at him again.

"Fine." He sighs as he walks further into the room, flipping through the chart in his hands. “It’s a very... odd predicament you find yourself in." He says. "It’s as much as a mental problem as it is a metaphysical one. We’ve had to find a very specific set of professionals to help us.” He looks up. "Which is why I'd like to know now, more than ever, what happened."

Odd. Right. That’s one way to put it.

“We asked you how long your ‘visions’ had been happening. You declined to answer. We asked where you came from before your incident happened- you declined to answer. We had to ask around- and we found no one who knew you.” He says. “Not personally. They don’t recognize your name. Which- I’m starting to suspect, as I’ve told you- is false. The paperwork you filled out for us is not factual in the slightest." He stares at me for a second. "Your description made more headway as far as IDing you goes... But we’re not allowed to show random people your photo and ask if they know you. It’s breaching too many hospital policies. It’s obvious you had some sort of public ‘episode’ which you’ve continued to have throughout your stay with us. Though you seem to be hesitant to explain yourself. You have no ID. You have no phone with you. You refuse to use ours. You won’t tell us where you came from. You won’t tell us who you really are.” He leans forward. “How am I expected to help you if you refuse to help me do so?”

Fuck.

It's not point holding this off.

"I am a doctor," he says. "I want to help you."

Right. Sure he does.

"I want you to get better." He says. "Do you want to get better?"

I shrug.

"I know you do," he says. "This, whatever it is, scares you. You need help. Will you let me help you?"

This useless jabbering is getting on my nerves. He doesn't want to help me. No one wants to help me. However, it's clear that the only way I'm going to get him to shut up is to speak to him. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with now.“I don’t want help,” I mutter. "Go away."

"So he does speak." He says. "Two days of keeping us in suspense."

I stare at him again. "Go away," I repeat.

He shakes his head. "You need to answer my questions. In return- I'll answer yours. Okay?"

I think it over and then nod.

"Good." he smiles. "I'll let you go first. Do you have any questions?"

"Why am I here?" I ask, turning the tables on him.

"That's what we keep asking you," he says.

"I'm starting to think you don't know," I say accusingly.

"I'm starting to think you don't know." He counters. "I've been asking you multiple times the last two days. You won't answer."

"You don't have a clue," I accuse.

"I'll not be baited." He says. "You must answer my questions if you want your own answers. Now, why are you here?"

Hmm. Well played. "I'm here because someone picked me up and brought me here," I say. "I don't remember coming in, I don't remember being checked over, and I don't remember the drugs you pumped into me at the start." I pause. "Now, you tell me why I'm here."

"That's fair." He nods. “You are here because you had a public episode. Much like a psychotic break or some such happening and then proceeded to go to the roof of a hotel and walk off.” He says. “You survived. Not a scratch on you. You woke up in the ER and left. An hour later the police were called because you had yet another episode and were seen kidnapping a child. The child was freed and you again walked off of something.”

That’s bullshit.

I would never 'kidnap' a child.

Not one that I didn't know and that I didn't have just cause to do so.

“I didn’t kidnap anyone,” I growl.

“Gabrielle Kinney.” He says. “You took her from the mall.”

Gabby was in danger. I was the only one who knew it. I was sure that if I got her to Laura, she would be safe.

However, I couldn't find Laura. She didn't answer her phone and she wasn't with Gabby.

I had to improvise. I was going to take her across the bridge and into a safe house I've used for decades. She would have been safe there.

I was stopped by a fucking garbage truck. I wrecked the car and a cop who was following me- pulled her out.

I got away from the cop and in my wild state- decided to die. Because I couldn't save Gabby. I couldn't keep her safe.

I couldn't bear that guilt.

“She was in danger.” I defend my actions. I would never hurt my little sister.

But I can't tell him she's my little sister without giving away my identity. And the last thing I want is any of my family members involved with this. I won't bring that dishonor down on their heads. I won't do it.

He nods. “And you know her?”

Fuck.

“No,” I say.

“So one of your ‘friends’ told you to do it?” He asks.

“It’s not like that.” I defend myself yet again. "I just knew it."

He told me. He's always telling me things.

“Then what is it like?” He asks. "How did you know she was in danger?"

“Gabby was in danger,” I repeat. “Someone was after her. I was just taking her somewhere safe.”

"Who was after her?" He asks.

I hesitate. "You won't like that answer," I say finally.

"I don't like it because it's upsetting or because it's illogical?" he asks.

"Sewer people," I say, quietly.

"Excuse me?" he asks.

"Sewer people. A group of mutants who live in the sewers. They wanted Gabby."

He stares me over. "And what made you think that?"

I shake my head. "You won't like that answer either."

He nods. "So.. you were taking her somewhere away from the sewers. Where was that?"

I shake my head. "Stop talking to me like that," I say. "I know how it sounds. But it's not what you think it is."

“Oh?” He asks. “And where were you taking her?”

“To her sister,” I say."But I couldn't find her sister."

“You know her sister?”

I go quiet.

"Laura Kinney was ten minutes from picking Gabby up," he says. "Witnesses say you pulled up and took her before Laura could arrive."

I .. did. Yes. That is something I did.

"If you were taking her to Laura, why did you take her away from Laura?" he asks.

"Becuase she couldn't get there in time!" I snap.

"I see." He nods his head, scribbling something in my charts. “Now, for whatever reason, the Kinney’s are not pressing charges on you.” He says. “Ms. Kinney- the older sister- says the two of you reached a bargain.”

I nod.

"What bargain did you reach?" He asks.

"I ... don't remember." I say honestly.

I don't know why Laura didn't tell anyone.

Is she how I got here?

Did she call 911 on me?

“So you ‘saved’ Gabrielle Kinney, were stopped before you could take her to her sister, and you walked off another building.” He says. “You had a busy day.”

I shrug.

So she didn't. I left her and Gabby in favor of jumping off of something.

No wonder I can't remember. I smashed my head open like a dropped watermelon.

“Then that night- you ended up in the ER AGAIN for a drug overdose. Covered in what we can assume were self-inflicted wounds. Though you refused to tell us what you used to harm yourself. Strangely enough- you’ve had similar wounds return during your stay with us. And this room? This room is the safest place you can be. So. Mr. John Doe.” He says. “I have your results- the ones we could draw on such limited information. You’ve got to promise to react calmly, though.” He says. "I don't want to send you into another episode. I don't think you've fully recovered from your last one."

I make no such promise.

“Or, in the very least if you can't stay calm, stay away from the windows and other high objects.” He says.

I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. Seems like a joke. Should I take it as a joke?

"What are the results?" I ask. "What's wrong with me?"

He looks sad suddenly as he flips to another page in my charts. “Your brain is producing an unknown chemical.” He says. “We've looked at the results of the tests and we don't know what it is. We can’t place it. The entire chemical structure of your brain has changed. To understand it we would literally have to crack your skull open and dissect it.”

Sounds like a good ‘ol time to me.

“It’s like some part of your mind has just.... changed. Physically it's fine- chemically it's completely different than that of a normal person. And we can’t figure out what part is changing or for what reason.” He says. “It’s not life-threatening, overall your mind is fine. The chemicals are just... out of whack. We don’t know how to suppress this chemical or if your mind needs it for some reason. Or what have you. It’s like.... somethings just snapped.” He says. “Has this happened before?”

Yes.  
He fixed it.

He fixed me.

I should have guessed that with his passing from my life- he would take his miracle cures with him.

“No.” I lie.

he nods. “Your healing would suggest you would have an extended lifespan.” He says. “How old are you?”

“23.” I lie.

“23?” He asks suspiciously. “23.”

“26,” I say dryly.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

I nod.

“Because intake has you at 28.”

I shrug again.

“You’re seriously going to tell me that you don’t know how old you are.” He says, deadpan.

I shake my head.

“You don’t speak and when you do- it’s lies,” he says.

“I am an enigma,” I say.

He actually smirks. “So tell me- who is the ‘man in the shadows’?”

I shrug again.

“That’s who causes your ‘episodes’- is it not?” He asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

“So you don’t.” He says. “You just randomly talk to this man in various tones of fear, anger, and pain.” He says. “And you scream for no reason.”

“I’m an enigma,” I repeat.

“Okay, Mr. Enigma.” He huffs. “Here’s the raw of it- you have maybe three weeks of mental stability- if that’s what we’re calling your state right now. Whatever you have done, be it someone you ran into who did this to you, something you took that did this to you, or whether you’ve gone and done it to yourself for whatever reason- you need to get some facts straight.” He says. “You are going to live. Your brain, for the most part, is fine. Mentally- you are facing something that is to the effect of cancer. You won’t be brain dead. You won’t die. You won’t lose all mental function- but you’re going to need a hell of a lot of assistance. The entire chemical structure of your mind- the organ you need for everything else to work- is completely changed. Or it is changing. In three weeks your brain will be functioning in a way that a normal human has never seen before.” He says. “So, let’s be candid for a second.” He says. “What is your name?”

Fuck. Mental cancer.

He really never meant for me to outlive him.

I shouldn’t have gone to that fucking funeral. I should have stayed away. It’s not my fault he’s dead. I gave him everything. If Logan had just really killed him.... if.... if we weren’t in this predicament.

The chemicals of my mind have changed because he purposefully changed them. Romulus knew much about genetics and had many scientists on hand.

With every 'improvement' he stripped a little bit more of me away. My mind was broken, my body was broken, my spirit was broken- he took everything.

“James,” I say numbly.

He nods. “James. Last name?”

Why did I give him my father's name? Fuck. I guess I'm feeling a little sentimental about the family I've lost.

Not that he's really 'lost' per se. I just can't be around him. And that means I can't be around the girls.

And to be honest- I miss the girls.

Maybe that's why I took Gabby.

The thing is- I thought she was in danger.

And she was happy to see me. I wouldn't have hurt her. I would never hurt her.

“...Storm.” I say.

Johnny won't mind that I used his name.

He's too good of a guy to throw that much a fuss when a friend is in trouble.

And me? I am in trouble right now.

They think I'm crazy.

They're telling me I'm crazy.

And I... just have to accept it. They're not wrong. As far as brain chemicals go- mine are out of whack. The ones that make you happy and sad are being overproduced- the new one, the one they can't place- as a variety of side effects. It was meant to balance out the other two. It did not work.

“That still sounds suspiciously made up.” He says.

“Green,” I say.

He stares at me blankly.

“Howlett,” I say. It leaves my mouth without a second of hesitation.  
And... I don't know why.

He scribbles something else in my chart.

I don’t know what possessed me- but it’s out there. I’ve got to follow through.

“That sounds familiar.” He says.

“Family name,” I say.

God. I gave him my father’s name. I know he doesn’t use it - so it won’t matter. But... still... easily traceable.

He nods. “That seems true. Okay, James, do you have any family?”

“No,” I say, quickly. "It's just me."

None that I can bring into this, at any rate. It's best they stay away.

Without him to save me- I'll end up in some institution like he always threatened I would.

I can't even go back to him. As per the funeral two weeks ago- he's dead. Body burnt.

Several of his old playthings showed up. None of us knew why. I guess my reason was to make sure he was really dead. That he couldn't hurt me anymore.

“Friends?”

“No.”

Johnny and Bobby come to mind- but I don't want to smudge either of their superhero identities by getting them involved.

“Lovers?”

God. Bobby comes to mind.   
  
But I can't dwell on it. 

I can't bring him down like that.

We could have made it work. We could have tried. But my mind is not okay. My thoughts are scrambled. I was too afraid to ask him what I needed to ask him. I didn't heed his advice- either. 

So no.   
  
Besides- we weren't ever 'officially' anything.   
  
As far as everyone knew- and as far as we admitted it- we were just close friends who 'hung out' from time to time. 

I can't bring him into this. 

I can't even begin to think of him like that. It makes my head hurt and my heart beat funny. 

No one can know. 

“No.”

It's like I told him- it's our little secret. 

And it'll stay that way until the very end. Until my mind is sufficiently mush and I'm dead from my own hand. 

“Trusted religious leader?”

“No.”

He frowns. “No one. You have no one.” He repeats.

I shrug again.

No one who would want me. 

Not like this. 

“James, you are going to need more assistance than you are prepared for.” He says. “If you know of someone- anyone- who would help you, please- tell me. I will make the arrangements myself.”

I turn my head, looking out the barred window. This bed is comfy. More so than it looks. I think I’ll take another nap. They don’t bother me then.

“I have no one,” I say quietly.

He sighs. “I’ll look into facilities that can take you. Don’t stress yourself over it.” He says. “Where are you living?”

“Nowhere,” I say.

He shakes his head. “You don’t live anywhere.” He says. “You just walked out onto the street and randomly grabbed a superhero child to take her somewhere- but you live nowhere.”

“By a river,” I say.

“In a house?”

No.

I shake my head.

“In your car?” He asks.

I shake my head again.

“...are you homeless?” he asks.

“I prefer to think of it as being nomadic,” I say dryly.

“Someone in your condition does not need to be ‘nomadic’.” He says quietly. “Let me make some arrangements. If you think of anyone who can help you- anyone at all- let me know. Okay?”

I nod.

He smiles. “Thank you for your honesty.” He says. “This gives us a little more to go on.”

Fuck.

Go on your little hunt, doctor. You won’t find anything but dead ends.

Truth is- with the mind fuckery I was subjected to... I doubt I could even verbally tell them what happened. How I got here. Where here is. What I’m doing here.

Answers.

I’m fresh out of them.

Shit just got bad.

Shit got bad and for the first time in my life- he wasn’t there to help me. He didn’t take it away. He didn’t shield me from it. He wasn’t there.

It was an odd sense of betrayal.

He promised me- promised me- I would never suffer like that again.

He told me it was too much- to my face.

It’s the only time he ever apologized to me in my whole 60 years of knowing him.

He kept his promise. Whenever I slipped- there was a cure. A telepath under employ. A mind block or two. Giant walls meant to trap in whatever threatened to hurt me.

That’s not there anymore.

Night after night another wall falls.

There is no cure now.

No telepath would ever repeat what the ones under his employ did to me.

That’s what I was doing when my vision told me to go save Gabby. Gabby was in danger. I had to go to her immediately.

I’ve put forth 30,000 dollars towards finding a telepath to fix this problem.

It’s been fruitless.

That’s why I’m not living anywhere.  
That’s why I have no money.  
That’s why I’m here.

Someone has to fix this.

And.... it can’t be me. I can't do it. I simply cannot do it.

If it were left up to me- I'd be dead by now.

“I’ll let you get your rest.” He says. “Let the nurses know if you need anything, alright?”

I nod. I won’t- but I nod.

He nods back and exits the room- leaving the door open.

Down the hall, I hear PA systems announcing the end of visiting hours.

I’m sure if I had visitors they’d be gone by now anyway.

I close my eyes.

I can almost feel him staring. He always does when they leave.

He must have sensed that I was getting tired.

Without opening my eyes I say, “Well this is some shitshow.”

He doesn’t respond.

“It’s your fault- you know,” I say.

No response.

“If you’d just leave me the fuck alone....”

To that, an unearthly chuckle follows. “ _Take your nap_.” His gravelly voice says. “ _You’ll need your strength_.”

I can’t argue with him.

“I wish you would go away,” I say quietly.

“ _Then I’m gone_.” He responds. “ _Until next time._ ”

“There won’t be a next time,” I say.

“ _There will._ ” He says, chuckling. “ _Your little sister’s still in danger- you know. Her pretty little head is on a plate- you put her there_.”

She’s fine. I know she’s fine.

“You lied,” I say. “You made me kidnap her. You made Laura hate me.”

“ _Did I_?”

“You are a demon,” I say.

“ _You don’t believe in demons_.” He chuckles.

“You’re a ghost.” I continue.

There’s a small sound- I dare not open my eyes to see what he’s doing. “ _I’ve been here to save you this whole time_.” He says. “ _You’re nothing without me._ ”

“You’re not real,” I say quietly.

“ _You keep telling yourself that._ ” He laughs. “ _But... I would check in on your sister. She’s in danger- you know._ ”

“I’m not listening to you anymore,” I say. “The only person she is in danger from- apparently- is me.”

“ _Then you should do the world a favor and get rid of yourself._ ” He says.

“I tried that.” I sigh.

“ _No- you didn’t. If you take the drugs your healing factor stops. You take care of things when it’s stopped- your sister is in no danger from you._ ”

I would never hurt her. I know that. Deep, deep down - I know I couldn't do it. And this whole thing wasn’t about hurting her. I really just had to get her out of there. I didn’t do anything to her.

“Drugs?” I say.

“ _If you want them- you know what to do._ ” He says.

Follow.

Follow and watch. Follow and wait.

“Where is it?” I ask.

He laughs again. “ _Follow the cat._ ” He says.

“I don’t like following the cat,” I say.

“ _Follow the fucking cat to get the drugs, take your pretty little claws and slit your pretty little throat, and save your sister from the evil that is you.”_ He says. _“That is your mission.”_

Fuck. He always spells things out for me.

But he's right. Gabby is only in danger from me. If I want to save her- I've got to take myself out of the equation.

I nod. “I will accept it,” I say quietly.

“ _Watch the guards. Watch the nurses. Follow the cat_.”

“Follow the cat,” I repeat. "I will follow the cat."

 _“Good boy.”_ He says. “ _Now- do as you’re told.”_

Through the crack in the door, I see a black shadow. The cat. No one else can see him. He helps me find things.

I quietly rise from bed, not bothering with socks or shoes or even really shorts (the hospital gown will do fine), and go to the door.

Down the hall is dark. Lights out. I’ve been talking with the man longer than I thought I had.

The cat stops moving- a black, legless cat- and stares back at me with its large green eyes.

I nod to it and it starts moving again.

Room after room passes by.

No one takes note of me.

Shift change I’m betting.

The cat stops outside a door beside the nurse’s desk. it’s open. unoccupied.

The cat lets out a loud purr, rubbing against the doorframe.

That's where it wants me to go. That's where he wants me to go.

If they weren't real- they wouldn't know these things.

Or is it that I noticed these things and they're just regurgitating back what I already know.

It's hard to tell.

The cat meows- drawing me back to the situation at hand.

"No need to get pissy," I whisper to it as I slide inside as quietly as possible and am greeted by rows upon rows of pill bottles.

Different medications, different dosages, different shapes and colors, all at my disposal. One could easily take anything in here to stop a healing factor- but I settle for a mix of three different painkillers. I’ve always liked painkillers.

The cat’s vanished when I turn around.

"That makes sense." I grouse, lighting kicking where it had been beside the open door. It doesn't come back or make any noise- so I guess it's gone.

I take my ill-gotten gains and return to my room.

The man is gone.

My Misson is accepted.

Funny- this will be Jame’s Howlett’s second death in four years. The man just can’t stay alive- can he?

I unscrew the first cap and take three pills.

Then the second- I take six.

The third- I take ten.

And over and over and over again.

It’s going to end. Everyone will be safe. The secrets I know will go to the grave with me and I will finally rest.

That’s really all I could ask for at this point.


	2. finding what some people did not want to be found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan realizes he’ll need to seek Legal assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thanks for reading.  
> There is talk of drug overdoses in this chapter.  
> And legal shit that I’m pretty sure I’m making up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I have three of these pretyped which is why the chapters are coming out so fast- haha. 
> 
> As always, if you want to ask questions or talk about the fic- you can find me on tumblr! Or leave a comment and I’ll get back to you post haste. 
> 
> Thank y’all so much for reading! If you wouldn’t mind- leave me a kudo or a comment to let me know how I’m doing!  
> This one’s a little dark but overall it is about recovery. So... yea.  
> Enjoy!

Fuck. This case is a dead end.

Literally-not that metaphorical bullshit- the only person who could have been a witness to any of this is dead already.

Got involved after a corpse was found. Don't get me wrong- it's always sad to see a kid die. But fuck. Why call me in for this? There's nothing I can do for that kid. He was stone cold by the time they found him. Probably had been for a few days.

There's literally nothing I can solve for them.

Slim shoulda sent someone who would try a little harder. Being in hospitals freaks me the fuck out.

And it doesn't help that- like I said- this is a dead end. Nobody is gonna figure out what happened. The truth of what happened- at any rate.

Some politicians kid called and said they were held captive by a mutant gang. That's right- mutant gang. Cuz there are so many of those running around New York these days.

It coulda been Morlocks- but the 'descriptions' the kid gave didn't match up to any of 'em. Also- we checked with them. Haven't been topside in about.. four months.

And they definitely wouldn't bother with some politician's brat. There's no point in it.

We went over the descriptions- apparently, the gang only had five members- trouble is, the descriptions were changing from telling to telling.

Kid's obviously lying.

I was the first to say it but now it's pretty obvious to all involved.

Turns out the brat was hanging out with a kid who happened to be a mutant, they got high, the mutant died from OD, and the kid freaked out and lied. He even roughed himself up for effect. The kid was dedicated. Now he’s sitting in the hospital being questioned by fifty million people. Including me- trying to figure out what the hell the mutant kid took that made him OD like that.

Or, why the brat lied about being taken hostage by a gang. Surely he knew that would have consequences on the mutant community and that his friend wouldn't have wanted that.

Kids. Never know what's going on in their fucking heads.

It’s a short walk down the ER hallways. Names on the walls in these small little clear trays that hold the charts. God these people must be in it for the long haul.

I talked to the kid- he doesn’t have a fucking clue what they took. And the little fucker won’t tell me where he got them. I’d give him a good ass kicking if I were his parent. Spoiled little brat.

I’m walking down a pretty deserted hall when all hell breaks loose.

Someone’s screaming ( a man), machines are beeping like crazy, doctors and nurse’s are pouring into a room- it’s bad. So bad, that I think they may need help.

The man screams and screams and I'm decently sure I've heard him before.

His voice is so familiar that it hurts.

Maybe I'll just take a quick peek.

I move in that direction, but there are too many people in the room to see what's going on.

"It's okay." one of the nurses is saying. "You're okay. It's okay. Relax. Shhhh. Relax."

Whoever is on that bed is not listening.

"Find what he took." The nurse says. "Bottles- look for bottles."

Someone makes an aha noise. "Painkillers." He says.

The man is barely making sense when he's talking because he's not really saying words. It sounds like slurred gibberish.

“Sir- I’m going have to ask you to stay back.” A nurse says I step closer to get a better look.

“What’s going on in there?” I ask nodding to the room.

The man sighs. “It’s a private matter, sir, and it’s well underhand.”

Guess that’s a nice way to say ‘fuck off.’ Nicest I’ve heard in a while, at any rate.

I’m supposed to be talking to the pharm tech they’ve got floating around here somewhere, anyway. Can't get caught up in someone else's bullshit.

I walk in the opposite direction on the room with the screaming man in it, looking for the pharm tech.

When I finally find her at the pill closet- I see a team of security guards and several nurses standing around her- a particularly pale read head is in tears in one the nurse’s chairs.

“I left it open for a minute.” She says through the tears. “I didn’t even hear him come in!”

As she's crying the doctor comes out of the room- I can tell he's a doctor by his fucking white coat. They must think they're soooo special. God, I hate doctors.

There’s still screaming in the room, followed by some whimpers- but the doctor seems semi-pleased. “The inventory is not off.” He says. “There are three empty containers of painkillers under his pillows.”

“Oh god.” The nurse hiccups. “Is he okay?”

The doctor nods. “He’s more upset by the restraints than he is by the overdose.”

Someone took three bottles of pills and survived? Fuck. That’s a mutant. I should talk to them and see if they know anything about this drug going around.

“What happened?” I ask, walking to the counter.

The doctor eyes me. “A patient helped himself to the pharmacy.” He says. “But everything is underhand.” he pauses. “You’re Wolverine- aren’t you?”

I nod. “What gave it away?” I’m not wearing my costume and I never show my face to the public.

“Gut intuition.” He says. “You’re working the mutant drug case- right?”

I nod again.

“I have some information for you.” He smiles. “Claire, go collect yourself, okay? It was an honest mistake. Don’t let it happen again- but don’t beat yourself up, alright? If it makes you feel better, when the tranquilizer sets in, why don’t you go and talk to him. See for yourself that he’s okay.”

“Yes, sir.” The redhead nods. “Thank you.”

The doctor smiles. “I’m going to take Mr....”

“Logan,” I say.

“Logan to the conference room and talk to him about his case.”

The nurses around redhead- a blonde and a raven-haired woman- usher her to the door of the hospital wing- towards the elevator, coming back once they’re sure she’s okay and actually on said elevator.

The doctor nods to them as they return. “Follow me.”

The hallways are all darkened. In this wing, there are four short hallways. Each holding about five rooms.

The number of nurses seems disproportionate to the number of patients that could be housed here. Guess they're a little understaffed.

Seems like the man in the room is taking up all of their attention.

The floors have been waxed recently in the hallway I'm heading towards. I can still smell the wax on the colored tiles. The tiles are an odd mix of yellows and blues. Kinda in a criss-cross pattern. It's done in a way that looks careless but doesn't at the same time.

The doctor motions for me to follow him. "I have information for you, but also have to tell you that the case is closed. The child gave up his supplier, what they took, how much they took, and that he lied. He is now being arrested for something or another. I can't remember. But at any rate, the case is closed. I'm to give you your information to try and stop the spread of the drug. But honestly- it wasn’t a mutant killing drug. The child who overdosed just happened to be a mutant. So it shouldn't require your involvement at all."

"Good to know," I say gruffly.

He starts to lead back down the hallway. I catch a glimpse of the name on the room of the patient who stole all the meds and stop dead in my tracks.

This has to be a joke.

Or a trap.

Either way, I'm gonna get to the bottom of it and get the hell out of here.

“Whose room is that?” I ask, eyeing the name on the door, kinda freaked out, to be honest.

“James.” He says. “He’s our rather special patient.”

“What’s his last name?” I ask.

I can’t have read that right.

“Howlett.” He says. “If he’s telling the truth.”

“He ain’t.” Someone is playing a fucking joke on me and it’s creeping me the hell out. "What kind of trick is this?" I growl.

"No trick." he looks surprised. "That's the name he gave us."

"Oh right," I growl. "I'm sure. What is this place? Hydra? Weapon X? Sinister backed?"

“What do you mean?” He asks nervously.

"Who do you work for?" I ask.

"The hospital." The man says. "I'm a doctor- I promise. There are no outside forces."

I can tell that he's telling the truth.

"Sorry," I say. "I got freaked out."

"By a name?" He asks, voice much calmer than it was.

“That’s my name,” I growl. “My exact name. The people who know it usually don't mean me well. Who is in there?”

"Your name?" the man asks in surprise. "Oh my." He then sighs. "I knew he was lying."

That's my name on the door. I'm gonna figure out why the hell it's there. "I need to talk to 'James'," I growl I start to push past him.

“I can’t let you go in there!” he says quickly, grabbing me.

I’m close enough to hear a very raspy voice call out for help.

“Shush now.” One of the nurses with him says. “That’s enough, honey. Just lay back and relax. It's okay. Do you have to vomit again? Let me get the bowl.”

He asks for help again and I freeze.

“James is not his name. It's not even close to his name.” I turn to the doctor, “But if you let me in the room- I can tell you who he is.”

The doctor lets me go. “Twenty seconds.” He says. “Go.”

I push the door open, surprising several nurses with my presence.

"Sir-"

"I got permission," I say, silence the group of them.

The nurse by his bed is a short blonde with multiple piercings in her ear.

The man who told me to fuck off- basically- is by the bathroom door, arms crossed. Looking kinda pissed that I'm in here.

And the woman messing with the heart monitor is a plump black woman with a calm voice and a gentle face. By that I mean- she just looks sweet. Like she's a gentle person.

That all drags my attention to 'James'.

I stare in shock.

Sure enough- kid’s tied to the bed, sweatin’, vomit on his face, hair a mess. But I’d recognize his voice anywhere.

My boy.

He gave them my name.

Something led me here. Fate. Devine intervention. Whatever you wanna call it. I was brought here for a reason. And that reason... is him. My boy- fucked up behind reason.

“What happened to you?” I ask, going to the bed.

He doesn’t seem to recognize me. He groans before puking again. The nurse puts the bucket to his face just in time to catch it.

“Daken....” I say in a gentler tone, “What happened?”

The nurse to his right clears her throat. “He won’t answer you.” She says. “He’s had an episode. He won’t say anything worthwhile for at least two more hours.”

Fuck.

I take his hand- it won’t move far because of the thick black strap holding it down. “Daken,” I say, “Why are you here? Why do they have you tied to the bed?”

“Help...” he groans.

“I’ll help,” I say quickly. “What happened? Did they do this to you?”

“F..fuckers.” He growls.

“James, that’s enough.” The male nurse scolds.

“FUCKERS!” He yells- suddenly.

“We’ll not stand here and be cursed at.” The small woman by the heart rate monitor puts her hands on her hips.

“...help.” He says softer. “Please. Please. Please.”

"Did they do this to you?" I ask.

His eyes are glossy.

"Daken-" I try again. "Who did this?"

The male nurse clears his throat. "He did." He says. "He took all the painkillers. We're just trying to get them out of his system."

He lets out a groan.

“That’s better.” The blonde nurse says with a smile. “Now, take this water like a big boy.” She puts a bottle of water up to his face. “Little sips.” She says. “Little, little, little sips.”

"How longs he been here?" I ask.

The nurses shrug. "Two days?" The male nurse says. "Maybe."

"And..."

"He's doing this to himself- I assure you." He says. "Who are you anyway?"

The woman by the bed glares at him. "That's Wolverine." She says. "Ya know. X-man? Avenger? Saved the world on multiple occasion?"

Seems like I've got a fan.

"Take care of him," I say to them. "Please."

They all nod.

It’s tough to see Daken like this... but I need answers now. My mission’s turned to a completely different mission.

I squeeze his hand and back out of the room, closing the door behind me.

“What happened to him?” I ask.

“That’s personal information I can’t give you.” The doctor says. “Did you ID him?”

I stare at the door for a long minute. “Daken Akihiro,” I say. “He’s a mutant. Healing factor, pheromone manipulation, built in weapons.”

“Built-in weapons?” He asks. “So... he has something on him that could help him hurt himself?”

I nod.

“At any given time?”

I nod again.

“How do you know him?” The doctor asks.

I can’t bear to say it out loud.

“Logan.... this is important. I’ve been looking for friends, or family, or distant relatives- anyone- who could help him.”

“He said he doesn’t have any family?” I ask.

“I suspected he was lying.” The doctor says. “Everyone has someone- after all.”

I nod. “He has a family,” I tell him. “A dad and two sisters.”

“And... could one of those people support him?” He asks.

“Support him?” I turn to him. “Why would they need to do that?”

“That would be a conversation for us to have with them.” The doctor says, crossing his arm and looking at the door. “It’s private information.”

 “Kid’s mine,” I say, also looking at the door.

The doctor turns to face me. “Yours?” He asks in shock.

“Yup. Got my powers too. Healing factor, claws, heightened senses- he’s mine. My only boy. He says he doesn't have anyone because he doesn't want us involved. I don't know why. What did he do to get here?”

The doctor eyes me for a second. “He kidnapped a little girl.” He says, “And he’s tried to kill himself at LEAST six times.”

“Who’d he kidnap?” I ask.

He's kidnapping little girls? That's not Daken at all. There has to be something beneath the surface to that accusation.

“Gabrielle Kinney.” He says.

Makes sense.

“Thank god the girl was unharmed. Her older sister neglected to press charges.” The doctor says.

“That’s cause Gabby’s older sister is his younger sister,” I say. “Gabby and Laura are my daughters- Daken's sisters.”

He stands there speechless for a second.

"She's... his sister?" He runs a hand on top of his head. "So much makes sense now." He says. "He didn't kidnap a random little girl because she was in danger- he kidnapped his sister because he thought she was in danger." He looks at the floor. "he had a motive. He had an actual motive for his behavior. He has someone he cares about."

I don't know how to take what he's saying.

"You could help me." He says. "You all could help me. We'd have to run it by him, of course."

Eh.. not the best idea.

"We'll do what we can," I say. "What do you mean run it by him? He won't want us involved."

"We'll try to get his consent as best we can." The doctor says. "So you and your daughters live here in the city?"

"Yep." I nod.

“And could one of you support him?” He asks again. "Maybe putting him in the home with Gabrielle will make him realize she's in no danger and in doing so will make him feel calmer."

“Yea,” I say. “I could.” I pause. “If you tell me what’s wrong with him.”

He nods. “I’ll have to ask him if it’s okay.”

“He’ll say ‘no’,” I say. “Don’t ask him.”

“I have to ask him.” The doctor says. “I can’t just take you at your word- this is sensitive information. I have to involve him in it’s disclosure to others. There's a form that he has to sign.”

“Didn’t you say he was nuts?” I ask.

“I did not.” the man says. “I said he’d attempted suicide on several occasions.”

“Sounds nuts to me.” I cross my arms. “I can support him, I can care for him, I can do what needs to be done... if you tell me what’s going on.”

“We have to involve him in that decision.” He says stubbornly.

“He’ll say no,” I repeat. “I’m the only chance he’s got.”

He purses his lips. “I can’t do it.” he says. “it’s against my code of ethics. I don’t know that you are who you say you are- even if I want to believe you- and I do Logan... I'll need more proof than just your word.”

“What do you need- a paternity test?” I ask.

“I need his consent.” He says. "I'm sorry- he's an adult. That's how it has to work."

“He ain’t gonna give it, doc,” I say. “He’ll fight tooth and nail to not have me involved.”

“And yet you want me to involve you- thus upsetting my already very upset patient. I can't risk it.”He shakes his head. "I had such high hopes for this, too. I'll have to go back to the drawing board. Try to figure out how to convince him to talk to me about his sisters."

I exhale slowly. “Just tell me what’s wrong with my kid,” I say. "I don't care what you have to do."

“I don’t even know if he is your kid.” He says. “He says he has no family.”

“Because he’s being a dumbass!” I say heatedly. “Tell me what’s up- I’ll make the necessary arrangements. That's my kid- that's my name on the door- he's even got my fucking eyes. Tell me what's wrong with my boy.”

“James-“

“Daken.” I correct. "His name is Daken."

“Daken, then,” The man sighs. “Does not want his family involved- apparently. To get involved, you’d have to get his consent.”

“He won’t give me his consent,” I say.

“Then you can’t be involved.” The doctor says simply. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your hopes up. But... like I said- Daken is an adult. He needs to tell us it's okay for us to release the information to you. Honestly, you've probably been told too much as it is."

That’s a tough situation but... “What if I prove he’s nuts?” I ask.

“You could start to sway me more if you stopped calling him ‘nuts’.” The doctor huffs.

“What if I can prove to you and everyone involved that Daken is too ill to make his own decision?” I ask. “Then could I be involved?”

The man is quiet for a long minute. “Daken has three weeks before he is transferred to a facility that he will most likely spend the rest of days at. If you can prove to a court and get a judge's order that he is mentally unfit- which I’ll be honest you’ll have more luck than you think you will- you can be involved.” He says. “But the clock is ticking.” He nods to me. “Get moving.” He says.

Oh, I’ll get moving.

“Thanks.” I hesitate at the door. “Is he gonna be okay?” I ask in a softer tone.

The doctor nods. “For now.”

“Then... I’ll be back.” I say. “Take good care of him.”

The doctor smiles. “Of course. I’m a doctor, after all.”

True... but still... “Can I give you my number?” I ask. “So you can call if he gets worse?”

“Not until he says it’s okay to disclose medical information to you.” He says.

“Fuck.” I hiss.

“It’s a very vicious cycle.” He says. “But I’ll tell him-“

“No.” I interrupt. “Don’t tell him about me. He’ll fight harder if he knows I’m involved. Keep him in the dark... please.”

The doctor nods. “Fine. But only because I’d hate to upset him more than he already is.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll be back.”

“You’ve got three weeks.” He says. “I wish you the best of luck.”

It’s hard to leave him here- especially with me not knowing what’s going in the first place, but I manage to make it out of the hospital and onto the curb outside.

I find my phone in my pocket and dial a number, getting Murdock’s office answering machine.

“Matt, it’s Logan,” I say. “I need a favor.”


	3. A phone call and a visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura talks to Logan before heading over to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mental health issues ahead (should be a warning for this whole fic!)  
> Also, they talk about some halluncinations- as someone who suffers from them, I tend to gloss over it a little because to me it’s not that big of a deal- but I am giving a warning, they are involved with this story. I honestly forget that other people can be weirded out by that becuase everyone around me IRL is so cool about it. So, just a heads up. If they get graphic, or upsetting (more upsetting than seeing something not there) I will try to let you know. The one thing you don’t have to worry about is them being of a sexual or non/con way. So no worries there. 
> 
> Thank y’all for reading!  
> I really enjoy writing Laura and I’m debating about whether or not to throw a Gabby chapter in there. So Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Enjoy!

“I understand,” I say into the phone. I've been talking on it so long that the glass of the screen is a little heated.

The air around me is cold- as if it could sense the tension from this conversation.

That or we actually turned the air on last night- it's either or.

Gabby remains blissfully unaware of the situation at hand. I don't know if I should tell her or if I do when is a good time to tell her.

This is something new for my family.

Usually, with my brother's actions- there's some kind of dark reasoning behind it. Finding out that he was sick- or is getting sick- is not something I expected. It just seems so... normal. The fact that this is happening- is not normal by the conventional sense but still- it's not aliens. It's not brainwashing. It's not secret government programs. It's just... sickness. Something that could have happened to anyone.

"I really need some help with this," Logan says over the phone. "And I think you're the best person to start with."

What a time for Logan to start outwardly caring about Daken.

I’m sure some of this could have been avoided if he’d just told my brother how he feels.

But, to be honest, none of us- myself included- are good at that sort of thing.

Out of any of us- I’m willing to bet I’m the best. And that? That really says something about us.

Logan inhales deeply. “And if you have any information....”

“What do you want to hear, Logan?” I ask. The information I have will not help him in the slightest. If anything, it will just upset him more.

“That... it’s not as bad as it looks.” He says. “I need to hear that.”

I stay silent.

“Is it?” He asks.

I don’t know what to say.

“It is, isn’t it?” he says, sounding sort of defeated.

“All I know is that someone told him to take Gabby,” I tell him, watching my little sister’s bedroom door to see that she’s still in there sleeping. “We never figured out if this was an actual person or... someone...” How do I say this?

“Someone....?” Logan prompts.

“Imaginary,” I say as gently as I can possibly make it sound.

“Imaginary?” Logan asks. “Why would he be hearing imaginary peo-“ He stops. “Fuck.”

“He’s very unwell,” I say. “From what I noticed- I’ve not talked to the hospital. They didn’t even tell me where they were taking him- and he was so out of it that he had no clue where he was, to begin with.”

“Out of it?” Logan asks. “What do you mean ‘out of it’?”

I look up at the ceiling, “He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know who the people were around him, he couldn’t tell me what he was doing- he was just out of it.” I say simply.

“Is he like that a lot?” Logan asks.

“It really says something that you have to ask that,” I say somewhat coldly.

Logan is silent for a minute. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.” He says. “That’s hardly my fault.”

“You never try,” I say. “You’ve NEVER tried. And now, when Daken needs you, he feels like he can’t ask for help.”

“He knows he could always ask for help,” Logan says. "That's bullshit."

“Obviously he doesn’t,” I say. “He needed you and you weren’t there. He learned that you would never be there. Now when he needs you the most- he’s too scared to ask.”

“I doubt he’s ‘scared’,” Logan says. “He’s just being stubborn.”

“He’s not being ‘stubborn’, Logan,” I growl. “He’s scared. Even he doesn't know why."

"Daken has never been scared of anything in his life," Logan says.

I groan. "Yes, he has," I say. "You're just too stubborn to notice it."

"Too stubborn my ass," Logan says. "Why won't he ask me for help? If this is getting so bad- why didn't he come to me?"

"Because the two of you feed off of each other’s vulnerabilities. And he’s just as bad as you are!” I snap. “You wonder why he doesn’t want your help, why he doesn’t want you involved, why he didn’t tell you that any of this was happening- he was literally afraid you’ll use it against him.”

“I won-“

“And what will you do if you gain control, hmm? What will you do if he lets you in?” I need to stick up for my brother. That means finding out our father's intentions.

“Take care of him,” Logan says defensively.

“Will you use your newfound power to rule over him? To control him? To make him bend to your will?”

“No- really,” Logan says quickly. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. That’s it.”

“Then you’d let me take him?” I ask. “If he needs someone to care for him- will you let me do it?”

Logan is silent.

“Well?” I press.

“No.” He says quietly. “No, I won’t.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because... I don’t know Laura.” Logan sighs. “I need to do this- okay? I just need to. Tell me what’s going on. All that you know. Please.”

He’s... genuine in his concern. I can hear it in his voice.

"Do not use what I'm about to tell you against him," I say.

"I won-"

"Promise me," I say. "Promise me you won't use this information to hurt him in any way."

"I promise." He says. "Laura, I just want your brother to be safe, okay? I know we have a past. But he's my kid as much as you and Gabby are. I need to be there for him. Even if he doesn't want me to. So I need any information you've got- okay?"

He sounds sincere. He could be lying.. but Logan doesn't usually lie to me.

I should tell him at least the bare minimum. I don’t know much, to begin with.

“I don’t know much,” I say. “What I do know is that he spent all of his money. He won’t call. He’s got no place to go. He’s hearing some creature or person that no one else can see. He follows some kind of ‘cat’ that he won’t explain. He talks to both of these things- repeatedly even if others are in the room. He takes orders from ‘urges’- he also won’t explain that. And he refused to go to the doctor when I told him to.“

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” He asks in shock.

“You didn’t ask,” I say.

“If your siblings- your brother or your sister- are going through something like that- you tell your parent.” He says sternly.

“We’re not like that, Logan,” I say. “And you know we’re not.”

“We’re gonna get like that.” He growls. “Starting now. Any health problem with any of you comes to me- got it?”

I sigh. “Fine.”

“I mean it.” He says. "I want to know everything."

“Fine,” I repeat. “If you want to do that, we will do that. Good luck getting him to follow along though.”

Logan is silent again. “So how bad is he?” He says. “What’s your personal diagnosis of the situation?”

“I think you should talk to his doctors about that,” I say honestly. “I don’t want to sway your opinion on the matter with my personal take on the situation.”

“That’s bullshit,” Logan growls.

“It’s true,” I say.

“Bull. Shit.” He says. “What do you think?”

“I think you need to talk to his doctor- or better yet, him. This is-“

“I know you think you’re looking out for him-“ Logan cuts me off, “But Laura, your brother is very ill. He needs help. Not secrets. What else do you think?”

I bite my bottom lip. “He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. All of his actions have been to protect people. He sees himself as a danger.” I say after a moment. “That’s the gist of what I know.”

“What did he do to get sent to the hospital?” Logan asks.

I exhale again. “He jumped off a building,” I say.

“He... what?”

“A building. A hotel I think. He went to the roof, very calmly, and walked off the edge. He fell a very long way to the concrete. When they realized he was alive, they took him to the hospital. I don’t know if he stayed there, however. He’s apparently done this before and left the hospital. I don’t know if that was in the same day, or a few days prior- I don’t know. He won’t tell me anything. I can’t pry it out of him.”

Logan is quiet again. “Fuck.” He says. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The boy’s gone over the deep end.”

“It seems so,” I say honestly. “Now. What are your intentions?”

“They won’t give me his medical records or tell me what’s going on without a court order or his consent,” Logan says. “And there’s no way in hell- even in the state he’s in- he’s going to give them consent to talk to me.”

I know he won’t.

“Without him telling them it’s okay- they can’t release any information to me. I didn’t even know he was in the hospital. I found him by accident.”

“You should really try talking to him,” I say. "Go visit him."

“He won’t let me near him- I know that much. Without his consent, I can’t help him. Some kind of hospital policy or some bullshit.”

“I’m aware of how the hospitals work, Logan,” I say. "You should still try visiting him."

“I know, I know.” He says. "But he won't let me in."

"Have you tried?" I ask.

"Well-"

"If you haven't tried you don't know what he will or won't do. You haven't given him the option of doing anything."

"I know you're taking his side," Logan says. "I know it- okay? I'm in the wrong here. Fine. I know you kids are going to team up against me on this. You want him happy. I get that." He says. "But I want him healthy. And healthy and happy don't always mean the same thing."

I stay quiet. He's... got a point.

"I want to help him, Laura." He says. "And you need to help me help him. Please. I can't do this without you."

I shake my head, staring at the ceiling. "Fine," I say. "Fine. What do we do?"

"We go find out what's going on," Logan says.

"But you said he wouldn't see you," I say.

“This is why I need a favor of you,” Logan says. "A very, very, very big favor."

A favor? For my father? Involving Daken? Oh, I can see this going well.

“What do you need?” I ask.

“I need you to go talk to him. He might listen to you.”Logan says. “I’m working the court angle- I got Matt Murdock and Jennifer Walters already on it.”

“Then why do you need me?” I ask.

Logan exhales slowly. “I need you to go and gather some intel for me. What his states like. What his mood is like. What exactly is going on with him. Pump him for everything.”

I sigh. “Logan...”

“Please, Laura,” he says. “In a few weeks- we might lose him.”

That... hits a heart string or two.

"Lose him?" I ask.

"They're gonna send him away." He says. "We can't let that happen."

I... agree. We can't let that happen.

The thought of losing my brother just as our relationship got good terrifies me.

“How do I even get in?” I ask. "Do I need to talk to his doctors beforehand... how?"

“Go to the desk, tell them you’re there to see ‘James Howlett’.”

That makes me laugh, quite expectedly. “He gave them your name?”

Logan chuckles. “Guess he was feeling sentimental. At any rate, tell them you’re there to see James. You’re a representative of Gabby Kinney reaching out for a statement or some shit.”

“This is a horrible plan.” I sigh.

“We need info.” He says. “If I can prove to our lawyer buddies that he is unfit to make his medical decisions- we can move forward. They’ll tell me what’s wrong with him- we’ll move on from there.”

I shake my head. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll go. But as soon as he finds out I’m working for you- he won’t work with either of us.”

“That’s fine,” Logan says. “Just get the information we need.”

“Fine,” I repeat. “I’ll go now.”

“Thanks, darlin’.” He says. “Don’t take Gabby- okay?”

“I understand,” I say.

“Good. Thank you. Report back to me as soon as you find something.” He says.

“I will.”

“Okay. Talk to you then.”

“Goodbye.” I hang up the phone and place it on the counter. 8 AM. Monday morning. It’s been several days since I saw Daken last. He was in such a state that I couldn’t speak to him. Then he walked off of a building.

I know I should I have told Logan a few weeks ago that Daken was getting... shall we say ‘weird’. Even for him.

I didn’t. I guess some of this is on me.

I’m dressed decently enough to go to a hospital. I’m guessing he’s talking about the only one in town- it’s not hard to find. I pull on a pair of my boots and adjust the waist of my jeans, pulling them up a little so that not too much of midriff is showing.

I’m still wearing a tank top so I throw my leather jacket on top of it. As far as modesty goes- I think this is the best we’re going to get today.

Once the boots and jacket are on, I walk to Gabby’s room and crack the door.

Gabby and Jonathan are still asleep. The latter growls a little when I approach the bed. I shoe him off and gently shake Gabby’s shoulder. “Gabby?”

She opens her eyes immediately. “You said we wouldn’t get up early today.” She groans.

“We’re not,” I say quietly. “I’m going to the hospital. You and Jonathan stay here.”

Gabby nods. “See ya when ya get back!”

I smile. “Pop tarts are in the pantry. Don’t use the stove.”

“I make no promises!” She says, rolling over on her side.

Jonathan makes a purring noise. One I didn’t know, before having a wolverine, that wolverines made. Owning a wild animal really opens one’s eyes.

I walk out of Gabby’s room and grab my car keys and phone, checking myself over one more time before I head out the door. I need to look professional after all.

I climb in my car- the silver car that Gabby has absolutely trashed- and make my way towards the hospital.

When I pull up- I’m sick with nerves.

What if he kicks me out?

What if he’s as bad as Logan seems to think he is?

What if.... he’s mad at me?

I don’t usually bother myself with other people’s opinions- but this one is slightly bothersome.

I pocket my car keys and open the door, staring down the somewhat empty hospital parking lot.

Walking towards the glass doors- I hear two nurses gossiping on their smoke break to the side of the building.

How odd it is to see health professionals doing something like smoking cigarettes. Especially so close to the hospital.

“Won’t eat. Won’t sleep.” One of them says. “Might as well put him on life support. Man doesn’t want to do anything to keep himself alive.”

“Poor thing.” The other says. “Crying at all hours of the night. Screaming is poor head off. Dr. Wren has him restrained 24/7 now. He’s too much of a danger to everyone around him. He fights the restraints to the point of exhaustion. Tried to tip the bed last night. Screaming, yelling, crying- he won't stop. Poor things in constant torment.”

"And he's just not safe!" The other nurse says. "To us, to himself- he is not safe."

“I know.” One woman says. “With those claws!”

My head whips in their direction- very noticeably.

“You have a patient with claws?” I ask.

The two women, older women with heavy foundation smeared on their faces, nod in unison. “Scary stuff.” One of them says.

I nod. “So he’s a mutant?”

They nod again. “What’s wrong with him?” I ask.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask.

One of them puts the cigarette to her lips and takes a drag, inhaling it and holding it for a second before blowing back out. “That’s personal information, dear.” She says. “We can’t give it to you.”

I nod. “That’s fine,” I say. “Have a good day.”

The two women nod and watch me head to the doorway.

“Wasn’t she one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen?” One of them whispers as I open the door.

“So well built!” The other agrees.

Nice to know I’ve got someone’s approval- even if it's two random gossips.

The hospital lobby is set up in a large spacious room. The hospital itself has five stories. The bottom floor houses the information desk, a circular set up that a singular man is working.

I walk to the front information desk and wait for the man working behind it- a black elderly man- to notice me. It takes him several minutes as he shuffles through files on the desk. "Can I help you?" He asks in a raspy voice- sounding like he too imbibes in cigarettes.

“I’m here to see James Howlett,” I say. “I’m a representative of Gabrielle Kinney. I was told I could find him here.”

"Got a badge?" He asks.

"Uh.. no. I was not told I needed ID to see him." I start to panic a little.

"Messin' with ya sweetheart." The man smiles. "You don't need ID. He's in room 106. Bottom floor. If ya get lost, follow the signs on the wall.”

Is it worrying that he didn’t even have to look up what room Daken is in to tell me?

He must be causing all sorts of trouble.

"Thank you," I say with a smile.

"That pretty smile is more than enough thanks," he says, going back to shuffling his files.

I can't tell if he's being creepy or just elderly. Sometimes the elderly are unsettling without meaning to be. I decided to dismiss his words in favor of focussing on my task.

I follow the signs on the wall that direct me to the different wings with the different room numbers. The '106-111' sign is blue on the wall. I have to go through a set of doors to get there.

Daken’s hall is dark and somewhat empty. The tiles have been waxed recently but are semi scuffed from wheels of beds and wheelchairs.

Room 106 is the only one with a chart in the tray.

To the side of the door to the room is a small sign that reads 'Possibly psychotic. Do not agitate."

That bodes well for us. I wonder what he's done that's bad enough to make them put up a warning sign.

At least they only have him labeled as 'possibly' psychotic. That's better than definitely psychotic. At least I think it is.

I crack the door open to a dark a room. He’s restrained on the bed directly in front of the door. His bed is propped up and there's a tray of food on one side of the bed on a small table that houses a water bottle, and a stack of papers on the other side of the bed, also housed on a small table. His one window is barred and it has the shades drawn, casting the room into darkness. I'm sure he'd feel better if they let some light in. But that's just my opinion. Knowing Daken, after a stunt like that, he doesn't want to feel better.

“I told you fuckers not to come back in here!” He yells, not opening his eyes to look at me.

“Daken,” I greet, walking over to him. “What happened?”

His eyes open and his head turns in my direction. “Laura.” He says, somewhat relieved. “Oh god- Laura.” He repeats. “Finally. Someone who can fix this.”

“Hey.” I take his hand under the restraints. “... what happened?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Really. Don’t worry about it.”

“I heard it’s pretty serious,” I say.

“It’s really not.” He says. “Do me a favor? Untie my arm. I’ve been dying to scratch my face.”

“I don’t think I should undo your restraints,” I say. “The nurses seem convinced you’re going to hurt someone.”

“I’m not.” He says quickly. “I really just want to scratch my face. Please, I haven't been able to move my arms in 24 hours.”

"What did you do to get yourself restrained like this?" I ask him.

"Something stupid," he says. "Please untie my hand. Just a single hand."

“I can't. I’m sorry.” I say, taking a seat in a chair beside the bed. "I can scratch your face for you if you'd like..."

"No, I'll deal with it." He says somewhat moodily.

I nod. "Other than an itchy face- how are you?”

“God.” He groans. “You sound like one of them. Please don't sound like one of them right now. I honestly can't take it."

That makes me smile. “They’re worried about you,” I say. “I am too. You scared me, Daken.”

He’s quiet for a minute. “Is Gabby alright?” He asks.

“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation. “She’s fine. She is wondering why you aren't answering your calls."

"No data plan, no wifi, no charger." He says. "it's basically a brick that plays music now."

"I see."

"So.. she's okay? You're sure she's alright?"

"Yes," I say. "I'm sure. She knows you would never hurt her. She just doesn't know why you thought she was in danger."

“I just did." He says. "...Are you alright?”

I pause. “Daken, you kidnapped our sister claiming some shadowy figure told you she was in danger, wrecked your car- the one possession you had left, and then jumped off a fifty story building,” I say. “No, I’m not alright. I’m worried. Your behavior has been nothing but frightening and erratic.”

He’s quiet again. “I’m sorry.” He says. “Really. I didn't mean to scare you. It wasn't my intention.”

I sigh. “What’s going on with you?” I ask. “Really. The truth- what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He insists. “Nothings wrong. I just had a bad day.”

He’s lying- unlike when he usually lies, I can tell it. His gaze is averted, his eyes are somewhat cloudy, and his fingers are twitching.

“You’ve had a really bad month,” I say. “What’s up with the shadowy figure. And the cat? Were you following the cat when you jumped off the building?”

He visibly bites his tongue.

“Daken, you can tell me- or I can leave,” I say.

He nods. “Yes.”

“Yes? You were following the cat?”

The cat. He never explains that. He has told me that he is visited by some kind of black cat. Green eyes. No legs.

I've asked him repeatedly how it moves if it doesn't have any legs. He never has an answer for me.

He nods again.

“And did the cat tell you to do it?” I ask.

“Cat’s don’t talk.” He says. "It's nothing, though. the cat is fine. It's just a cat."

"A cat that no one else can see...." I say.

He stares at me blankly.

"The cat no one else can see that leads you on missions to do things that usually involves hurting yourself. Don't you see how dangerous that is?"

"The cat is not a problem," he says grimly. "I can deal with the cat." he goes quiet.

I nod. “What’s going on, Daken?” I ask. “You’ve got to tell me. I care about you and I want to help you.”

He’s completely quiet before he nods to the table that houses a stack of papers. “Look for yourself.” He says quietly.

I lean over the short distance and grab the papers off the table- which was very close to me.

The papers are ‘reports’ and they are very concerning. His mental state, the fact that the unknown chemical is wrecking havoc on him, all of his ‘behavior issues’. “Daken...” I say in shock. “What did you do?”

He averts his eyes again. “Nothing.” He sounds so defeated.

“Your mind is failing you,” I say in disbelief, looking at the papers. “You had to have done something.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Daken says. “It was already decided from the time I was 12.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask in confusion.

“It means what it means.” He says simply. “Please untie my hand so I can scratch my face.”

“I’m not undoing your restraints,” I say. “Not after I just read everything you’ve done to yourself.”

“They embellished that.” He says.

“Your toxicity report says you had more drugs in your system than a usual OD. You had enough in your system for 3 ods. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could handle it.” He says. “I was wrong. I don’t deserve to be held here because I was wrong.”

“They’re not holding you because you were wrong,” I say in concern. “Daken- your mind is failing. You’re a danger to those around you and yourself. They’re worried you’re going to walk off of something again.”

He shakes his head. “I tried that. Doesn’t work.”

I leaf through the paperwork. “So you tried painkillers?” I ask.

“To slow my healing factor.” He says.

“And... did it work?”

“No.” He says. “I puked them up.”

“Ah.” Thank god for that piece of luck. “Did the shadowy figure tell you to do that?” I ask.

He goes quiet again.

“Daken?” I press.

He shakes his head.

“No?”

He won’t look at me.

“Are you lying?” I ask.

He shakes his head again.

“Can you not talk about it?” I ask.

He gives a small nod.

“Is he in here now?” I ask patiently.

Daken locks eyes with me and I have my answer.

“Okay,” I say softly. “I’ll stop talking about it.” I take his hand again. “Daken... why did you give them a false name?”

He sighs. “I didn’t want this attached to my name.”

“Why did you tell them you had no family?” I ask.

“I didn’t want this attached to any of you, either.” He says.

“So what are you planning to do?”

“Run.” He says. “As far away from here as possible.”

“Not a good idea,” I say. “If you get help if you talk to an actual doctor...maybe get some medication...”

“I don’t want to do any of that.” He sighs.

“Daken...”

“I just want to sleep.” He says. “Can I sleep?”

“Sure,” I say with a nod. “Of course. You can sleep.”

I lean over and adjust his pillow for him. He smells like sweat and vomit.

When I lean back I notice something odd with his eyes. “Daken...” I say. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head again.

“If something was wrong... you’d tell me- right?” I ask.

He goes quiet. “I’m upset.” He says. “I don’t know why.”

“Sometimes you don’t need to know.” I take his hand again. “Are they containing your claws?” I ask.

“I’m too exhausted to use them.” He says.

“But are they containing them?” I ask.

He nods.

“How?”

“Look at my knuckles.” He orders.

I take a closer look at the hand I’m holding. It looks like he’s wearing brass knuckles. A piece of metal that resembles a shackle occupies his wrists.

“I see,” I say. “Can I go talk to your doctors?” I ask.

“No.” He says.

“Daken..”

“No.” He repeats. “You can’t. None of you can.”

That bodes well for us.

“You already let me read your file,” I say gently.

“And he’ll put big words in your head and make you want to ‘take care’ of me. I don’t need to be looked after- alright? I’m going to be okay. I promise. I’ll figure everything out- I always do.”

I nod. “Sure.” I lie. “Can I still come to visit you?”

“Provided you don’t tell anyone we’re related- sure.” He says.

“Okay.” I stand to my feet. “I’ll be back later this week,” I promise.

“I’ll probably be here.” He says.

“I’m sure you will.”

He looks at me. “Don’t tell them my real name.” He says. “I don’t want them to get Logan involved.”

I have to keep my heartbeat steady. “Why?” I ask.

“He’ll use this against me.” He says, confirming what I thought earlier today. “I don’t want him to know.”

“But he can help you,” I say.

“But he’ll use it against me,” Daken repeats.

I shake my head. “He won’t,” I promise. “I know he won’t. He would never do that.”

“He wouldn’t do that to YOU.” He says. “He’d do it to me in a heartbeat.”

“Daken...”

“You will never know what it’s like to be his son.” He says. “To be a child of one of the many poor women he knocked up. To have him look at you in disgust and repulsion because you’re not her. Because she died because of you. Because-“

“He loves you,” I say. “And he loved your mother. He’s not repulsed by you. And you didn’t kill her. Okay? You were not even born yet. That death is not on you.”

He looks out the window. “I want to go to sleep.” He repeats from earlier. “Please leave.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’m going.” I walk to the door and turn back to him. “In case you need reminding, I love you Daken. You’re a part of my family. We’re not the same without you. Please... keep that in mind the next time one of your ‘friends’ tells you to hurt yourself, okay?”

“Go.” He says. “Please.”

I nod, opening his door and closing it behind me.

I run into a nurse in the hallway, rolling a cart with a container of water and some rags. She smiles at me and nods to a nurse behind me.

“Washing wild child?” The second nurse says.

“If he’ll let me.” She chuckles. “Poor thing hasn’t been bathed in a day in a half. Might as well go ahead and face the music- right?”

“Might as well.” The second nurse smiles and passes the two of us.

The nurse with the cart stops moving. “Lost, Dear?” She asks.

“Uh.. no,” I say. “I was just walking.”

She nods. “Might wanna head out soon.” She says. “Looks like rain outside. I’d hate for you to get caught in it.”

“Thank you,” I say, nodding to her and heading in the direction of the exit.

I need to call Logan.

But... I don’t want to betray Daken. Not after everything he’s told me.

I have a tough decision to make.

As I’m walking out of the hospital, my phone starts to ring.

I fish it out of my pocket and stare at the glass screen for a long minute before sending my father’s call to voicemail. Until I decide what to do, I’ll just avoid him as best I can.

That seems to be the only option I’ve got.


	4. Piss, teeth, a night time jog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter touches on a major topic for the mentally ill- our wishes being ignored or flat out dismissed in favor of something more ‘logical’. This happens to a lot of psychiatric patients but in my personal experience (been in a facility four fucking times- I’m a frequent flier as far as that goes) it happens more so when professionals are dealing with patients with psychosis. If you have a psychosis, if you’re hallucinating in any fashion- you are not to be trusted with your own decision. Yea- it’s as shitty as it sounds. They can force meds on you, lock you in rooms, tie you to a bed- it’s all on the table. 
> 
> That’s the warning for this chapter. 
> 
> That and suicidal ideation. 
> 
> That being said- I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> I swear- all the pieces are gonna connect in a few more chapters and we’ll get into the meat of the story. Just bear with me! 
> 
> Y’all are awesome, as always, and if you’d be so kind, leave me a comment of a kudos to tell me how I’m doing!

“I've told you three fucking times,” I growl to the woman. “I don’t want it!”

The room is tense as I face down my unrelenting foe. A woman in her mid-fifties, blonde box-dyed hair teased on her head, pink scrubs, and a face of makeup that looks a shade too dark for her. She peers over her thick glasses in obvious annoyance at me not respecting her 'authority' over me.

She’s trying to force me into something I’d rather not do. Which I’ve learned at an increasingly alarming rate- they can do when they want.

However, this is the first time they’ve pulled this particular brand of bullshit and I am not a fan.

I don’t care if my brain was complete mush and I was breathing through a tube- I still wouldn’t allow them to do this to me.

“Now, now.” She says. “It’s to help you sleep. Don’t you want to sleep? Sleep is so good for your body and mind.”

“I’ll sleep when I want to!” I snap. “I’m not a fucking child!”

My head is spinning. She can’t make me... can she?

They can’t override my wishes. I’m not committed. I’m not in a psych ward. Not yet- at any rate.

What power do they really hold over me?

“I know you’re not a child.” She says. “And you’ll act like a grown up and take this pill and sleep now.” The woman is plump and stern. Reminding me of someone’s grandmother- a young grandmother but a grandmother just the same. “I’m in charge of this wing until 7 AM. That means I am in charge of you. That means you are taking this pill and going to sleep.” She smiles with pink stained lips. “Are we clear?”

I shake my head. The nerve of these people. “Why are you all so obsessed with my sleeping habits?” I grouse. “I’m not hurting anyone.”

“You’re hurting yourself.” She says- almost sweetly. “Sleep deprivation is torture- you know. You can only go so long without sleep. So by not sleeping- you are essentially harming yourself. You need to be on a regular sleeping schedule. ”

“Trust me to know what my body can handle.” I plead. “Please. Just... listen to me. Please. Listen.”

She pours a cup of water from the pitcher beside the bed. “Sleep is important for a healthy mind, dear.” She says. “I’m sure you know that by now.” She holds the cup in one hand and the pill in the other. “Now, are we going to have any more problems?”

Yes. Yes, we are.

Besides not wanting to give in to their demands- I don’t want to sleep. I have awful nightmares when I sleep. I try to avoid it if possible.

“I can’t go to sleep.” I try for honesty.

I can’t. He’s waiting. He told me- clear as day earlier- that he would haunt me if I went to sleep while the sun was down. It’s like some kind of fairy tale curse. If I stay awake until sunup- I’ll be spared. If I go to sleep at night- I’ll be tormented.

“And why’s that?” She asks.

“I… they’re waiting for me,” I say.

She purses her lips. “You’re not staying awake another night. If you were afraid of sleep- you wouldn’t nap during the day. That’s a load of bull.” She smiles pleasantly. “So let’s take this pill and go right off to dreamland. Okay?”

“It doesn’t happen during the day, Jackass!” I snarl. “It only happens at night- which is why I can’t go to sleep!”

“That’s complete nonsense.” She says dismissively. “If you can sleep during the day, you can sleep at night. The only difference is that it’s darker. Which really won’t bother you because your eyes will be shut anyway.”

“It’s not nonsense!” I cry. “Why aren’t you listening to me???”

“I’m listening,” she says. “But what you’re saying isn’t true, dear. It’s fiction. If you can sleep during the day- you can sleep at night.”

“I can’t,” I say. “And I refuse to take that fucking pill. I have the right to refuse.”

The restraints holding me are tight. I can barely budge under them.

I give it a shot- though. But as much energy into it as I can spare.

"Stop that." She fusses.

"I can't go to sleep." I plead.

"Stop it." She says. "You're not going anywhere until you take this pill."

"... I take the pill and then I can go somewhere?" I ask

She nods. "Yes, you can."

"That's a good deal," I say. "Where can I go?"

She smiles. "Off to dreamland." She says. "And you can stay there alllll night. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

I glare at her. "I'm not taking the pill," I say flatly. "Shove it up your ass. It's my right to say 'no'."

She sighs. “James I will force this pill down your throat. Rights are waved in the face of psychosis.” She says. “Take it and go to sleep. Whatever is ‘waiting for you’ you’ll just have to deal with. It won't hurt you.”

“heartless bitch,” I say under my breath.

“I am.” She says, surprising me with her hearing. “Now, open up,” She smiles that pleasant smile again.

“Can I please talk to a doctor?” I ask.

“No dear,” she says. “You’ve got me and I’ve got more than enough medical training to handle you. 15 years in a psychiatric facility. I’ve helped children, men, and women alike. You are nothing I can’t handle without a doctor present.”

By 'help' I get the feeling she means 'oppress'. I haven't been a member of the mentally ill community long- but I'm getting a feeling for all the bullshit they're willing to do when that label is attached to your name.

Which is why I didn't give them my real name.

I'm going to have to try a different tactic with this. She's not budging.

“I really can’t take that pill,” I say. “I’m not even doing it to be difficult.”

“You will take this pill.” She says. “And you will go to sleep. For 8 or more hours.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head .”Really- I can’t.”

“I’ll hear no excuses out of you.” She says sternly. “Open your mouth and obey.”

“Please,” I resort to begging. “You don’t understand-“

“I understand that my psychotic patient needs his rest.” She says softly. “And he’s fighting me. Which is to be expected, I suppose. You are delusional after all. They should have just slipped it into your IV.” “

“I’m not delusional!” I say in exasperation.

“Agree to disagree.” She says sweetly. “Now take your pill. Rest is good for someone in your position. If you think they’re going to let you go to bed all willy-nilly in your new home- You are wrong Buster.”

“Buster?” I say with a cringe.

“That’s right,” she says. “Sleep is very important for you.”

“I understand,” I try to sound sincere. “I do. No one understands more than me.” I say. “But I can’t. Not tonight.”

“You’re recovering from a massive overdose.” She says ‘sweetly’. I'm starting to think she's not sweet at all. I keep using that word to describe her tone- but it doesn't fit her actions. She talks to me like a dog in the sense that the dog doesn't know what you're saying- they just listen to how you say it. I'm willing to be bet she's used to dealing with patients much worse off than I am. People who either appreciate this soothing tone or are too brain-dead to care. “Sleep is really the best thing for you.”

“And I’m saying I agree,” I say. “But I will have to sleep tomorrow morning. Sleeping at night is no good for me.”

“Sleeping at night is very important for you.” She says. “I’ll not have you up at all hours screaming. Scares the nurses half to death.”

“The man-“

“I will hear no more about your ‘man’.” She says sternly. “Whoever he is, he can wait until morning.”

“He can’t,” I say. “He said if I went to sleep tonight- he would come into my dreams and hurt me,” I say all of this very quickly. “There? Are you happy? Please don’t make me go to sleep.”

She seems to waver for a second before looking at me with eyes full of pity. “Oh honey,” she says. “That’s not true in the slightest. He can’t hurt you when you’re sleeping.” she smiles. “I promise.”

“You don’t know how he works,” I say. “He-“

“Is what- Freddy Kruger?” she laughs. “No such thing.”

“He’s not Freddy Kruger!” I groan in exasperation. “Why won’t anyone listen to me!?”

“We are listening, dear.” The woman says, “You’re just not making any sense.” She leans over, putting the pill in my face. “You’re very sick.” She says. “And you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying!” I argue.

“We’re gonna have to agree to disagree again then.” She says. “Take this. Go to sleep. We’ll hash it all out in the morning.”

“I don’t want to ‘hash it out’ in the morning!” I snap. “I told you I can’t go to sleep. I cannot go to sleep- alright? I can’t. I’ll sleep in the morning- I’ll sleep all day. I just can’t go to sleep right now. Not tonight.” She doesn’t seem to be listening. “Please,” I beg. “Not tonight.”

"Take your medication." She says. "I'll hear no more of this."

"You don't understand." I exhale, trying to arrange my thoughts. "The man in the shadows comes when it's dark or when I'm alone," I say. "He told me that if I go to sleep when it's dark, he'll go into my dreams. I cannot have him in my dreams. Do you understand?"

There. That was as rational as I could make it sound.

She sighs. “James, I’m aware of how scary this is.” She says. “But it’s not real, dear. And you know it’s not. Your condition?” She looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “It’s going to get worse. You need to be on a regular sleeping schedule.”

I hang my head. There is no getting around this. I’m going to go under and he’s going to come and hurt me. Cut me, burn me, drown me, freeze me- anything and everything. It will be 8 hours of torment.

“See? Even you think so when you really think about.” She smiles. “Chin up.” She says. “It’s just a little sleep. It can’t hurt you.” She holds the pill to my lips. “So... are we going to take our pill?”

I stare at the white tablet.

“James....”

God, I wish I hadn’t given them that name. I almost want to scream that it’s not my name. But then they’d know I was lying. I can’t let them know who I am or where I come from.

“Please.” I try again. “Not tonight.”

She sighs. “Plan B then.” She pushes the tablet to my lips- but I turn my head.

“Do you want your neck restrained too?” She asks.

I keep my head turned. If they want to treat me like a child? I’ll act like a fucking child.

“James, I’m not playing with you.” She says. “You will do as I say.”

“I can’t!” I cry as she grabs my chin and forces my head back to the pillows- facing her.

“You have to.” She says sternly. “Now, take this,” She starts to move the pill towards me again.

I need time. I need distance. I need... oh god. I need my powers. They’ve been suppressing my pheromones since I got here. They don’t know what they’re suppressing exactly- but they’re blocking what they can.

"I can't." I plead. "Please, no. Not tonight."

“Yes, tonight. Now.” She says. “Open up.”

I need distance. I need... a plan... god I cannot take this pill. I cannot go to sleep. I can’t risk it.

She starts to push the pill to my lips. She's going to force that tablet right into my mouth.

I have to do something.

I have to throw her. I jerk my head away again, causing her to sigh, back up, and take my chin again, making me face her. This is it. This is the endgame. If I don't' think of something quick- I will lose.

“I have to pee!” Comes out my mouth before I can stop it.

That's not what I was planning- but it's what came out.

I don’t use the word ‘pee’ usually. It’s either urinate or piss.

I said it because I need her to be on my side. I need to sound vulnerable.

My mind was making moves to protect me even if I was actively thinking of them.

And they say it's failing me. I think this would prove otherwise.

She draws back, pill still pressed between her finger and her thumb. “What?”

“I have to pee,” I say. “Right now.”

“You should have told them that before they left.” She says. “You’ll have to hold it.”

“Fine. You’ll be cleaning up piss, though.” I try to make it sound offhanded. Like I wasn't really concerned with them cleaning up the mess.

"We'll put a catheter in if you wet yourself."

"And I'll take it out," I say. "I want to go the bathroom. The actual bathroom."

"You have a bedpan." She says.

"But I want to go the bathroom," I say.

She glares at me through her heavy-rimmed glasses. “This is stalling.” She says. “And I won’t have it.”

“I really have to pee,” I say. “Please.”

She glares at me again. “If you’re lying-“

“I’m not!” I say quickly. “Please- let me up.”

They give me designated ‘bathroom breaks’. I have four nurses with me in the very small bathroom. It’s very awkward. I try not to focus on it.

“You should have gone thirty minutes ago.” She says.

“I didn’t have to go thirty minutes ago.” I try to sway her. “I have to go now.”

“You’re stalling now because you don’t want to take this pill.” She says.

“No- it’s just very conveniently timed.”

She chuckles. “Conveniently timed my foot.”

“Please,” I say. “I’ll take the pill. I promise.”

Her gaze softens. “Alright.” She says. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

She puts the pill down beside the cup on the bedside table and starts unfastening the straps holding me down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the damned cat.

“The cat!” I point it out. I keep doing that because it's sudden appearance always shocks me. I need to get a handle on how many times I point it out a day.

“No cat.” She says. “There’s no cat.”

“There is.” I insist.

It meows very loudly.

“It wants something,” I say. "I don't know what."

What could it want at this time of night?

“Ignore it.” She hisses, unstrapping my right foot. "Do not follow it when you get out of this bed- do you understand me?"

It looks at me with those big green eyes. It really wants something. It can’t be ignored.

“The cat-“

“Is not real. And I won’t hear any more on the subject.” She says.

I bite my tongue.

The cat lets out a loud purr.

I want to touch it. I’ve never touched it before.

“Now,” She says, “Move slowly.”

I nod, putting my feet on the floor.

The cat moves into the room, closer to me, meowing in a weird sound that echoes through the room.

“Bathroom.” The nurse orders. “Now.”

I nod again, walking the short distance to the bathroom.

“Go on.” She follows me in and shuts the door- shutting the cat outside. I can still hear it meowing.

I hesitate. The cat... the fucking... cat. It only comes when I need to follow it. That’s just how it goes- I don’t make the rules.

“James... go on.” She says. “Or come back to bed.”

I can’t go.

“I can’t,” I say.

Not with the cat in the other room.

“I thought you had to pee.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“It’s the cat...” I say. “I can’t focus.”

“There’s no cat!” She says in exasperation.

“Could you... open the door?” I ask, listening to the meowing get louder.

“For the imaginary cat? No.” She says. “I suppose you’ll be wanting a litter box next. A scratching post, perhaps?”

I glare at her. “Fuck you.”

She glares back at me. “I am one step away from calling in the night guards and having them put you under.” She says. “Don’t make me take that step.”

Fuck.

I am stalling- and I need to keep stalling. If I make her lose interest- she'll go away.

I just have to take my time.

Which means I'm actually going to have to piss.

Which I can't do on command. Or with people watching me. It makes me uncomfortable. And that's saying something. It takes a lot to make me uncomfortable.

“Can you turn around?” I ask.

“No.” She says. "I cannot. Do your business or come back to bed."

“Is this another inspection?” I ask.

If you self-injure they get a male nurse (or male and female if they’re short staffed) and go over every inch of your skin. It’s like being frisked. They inspect very closely. Ask questions. Take pictures. With the drugs their pumping into my system my healing factor is a little slower than usual. Sometimes they’re able to catch my wounds.

Now, before bed, seems an unlikely time for an inspection of any kind.

“No.”

“Then you can turn the fuck around,” I growl.

I have to exhale and loosen my muscles before any urination can begin.

“Stalling?” She asks.

I shake my head.

“Trouble then?” She asks in a concerned manner.

“A little,” I say honestly.

“A lot I’d say.” She says. “We pump you full of saline- there’s no way you’re dehydrated.”

I've dug myself into a hole here. It will be impossible to get on her good side after this.

“Maybe I can’t do it with you in the room?” I offer.

“Hmm...” She goes and stands to the side of the sink, propping herself on the edge of it and looking straight ahead. “Do your business or go back to bed.” She repeats.

“But the cat wants-“

“I don’t care what the cat wants.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pair of latex gloves, slipping them on her fingers.

“What are you doing?” I ask uneasily.

“Never you mind.” She says, making sure the gloves are on tight. "Go on and pee."

I turn and face the wall, trying to concentrate. It’s harder than it sounds.

My mind starts to wander- which here as of late is not that good of an idea.

I want to know why she's wearing gloves.

Does she plan on putting her finger somewhere she would need gloves? If so, I'm really not up for it tonight. That seems like something I'd want to do with someone else. Literally anyone else.

“Why are you wearing gloves?” I ask conversationally- trying to hide my unease.

“I need to check something.” She says. "It's going to be okay."

That doesn’t sound good.

“Can you not?” I ask.

“It won’t hurt.” She comes behind me, looking over my shoulder. “Please finish.” She says.

“Get back and I will,” I growl.

She pats my shoulder. “Hurry.”

I release a very strained stream of urine and right myself.

“Very good.” She says. “Now, I’m going to need you to stay calm.”

“About what?”

“Just stay calm. I noticed something when we were fighting in the other room. I’ve got to check it out.”

I sigh.

She puts her hand on my face, “Open your mouth.” She says.

“Is this a trick?” I ask.

“This is an order.” She corrects. “Open your mouth.”

Wondering where she’s going with this, I oblige her.

“James... when’s the time you had dental work done?”

She’s talking about my teeth??

“What’s wrong of my teeth??” I ask.

I mean- they hurt- but I didn’t think the damage was noticeable. I haven’t been able to check.

God. Another physical deformity. Like losing my eye and arm that time wasn’t enough.

“Some are shattered to the root. Some need a crown or two..... how on earth did they get like this?”

“I fell,” I say quietly. That had to be it. The impact from 50 stories up- my bones healed but my teeth probably need to be pulled to grow back.

She nods, sticking her glove covered fingers in back in my mouth, making it impossible to speak.

This is a side of this interaction I didn’t see happening.

Her finger probes a particularly sore spot and she nods, removing the finger. “Some of them are shattered in the back, as well.”

“They’ll heal if I pull them,” I say.

“Yes well, I think a trip to the dentist is very much in order. We can’t let you rip your own teeth out of your head.” She smiles.

“If you’ll just give me a pair of pliers and some painkillers-“

“Not going to hear it, mister.” She says. “Now, make yourself decent. I’m putting you back to bed.”

I give myself the proper adjustments, allowing her to usher me back into the small room.

“Into bed.” She shoes me. “Go on.”

It must say something about me and my ‘mental state’ that I didn’t fight her. I am tired- to be honest. And there is no fighting this. So I lay back in the bed. “Do you have to use the restraints?” I ask.

She exhales slowly. “Can you promise me not to do anything stupid?” She asks.

I nod.

"I don't see what it could hurt." She says. "You'll be sedated anyway and the morning shift can just redo them if you kick up any fuss when you wake up." She looks me over. “I’ll personally sit with you while you sleep. That way we'll be able to keep the restraints off and you can get some good rest. Okay?” She says. “No funny business.”

No funny business indeed.

She picks the forgotten pill up off the side table, followed by the discarded cup. “Take it.” She says. “You said you would.”

I take the tablet in my hand and put it to my lips, hesitating.

“Take it.” She repeats. “A promise is something we keep.”

Fuck that shit.

I place the pill on my tongue, grimacing at the taste.

“Now the water.” She says.

A mouthful of water sends it down my throat.

She wins this round.

“Very good.” She smiles. “Very, very good. I’m very proud of you.”

“I don’t need your praise,” I say, sounding somewhat snarky.

“Yes well, you have it anyway.” She sits in the chair beside the bed. “Now relax. That pill will kick in before you know it.”

I nod, leaning back into my pillows and staring at the ceiling.

Time ticks by slowly. The silence in the room, in the wing for that matter, is accompanied by second after second. Minute after minute.

No one is making any noise tonight.

“Why am I here?” I ask more to myself.

“Why are you here” as in an existential question or “why are you here” as in why are you in this particular building?” She asks, looking at her fingernails.

I stay quiet.

Why the fuck am I here?

Why don’t I leave?

I have my test results. There’s nothing chaining me to the bed anymore. Why... why am I here?

“You’re here because you need to be.” She says quietly. “Everything happens for a reason. Everything.”

That sentence resonates in my mind.

Everything happens for a reason.... then what is the reason life is trying to prove to me?

“Are you religious?” She asks.

“No,” I say, somewhat numbly.

“In times like these- people tend to turn to faith to guide them.” She says.

“There is no God,” I say.

“I know it seems like that-“

“I’ve died three times.” I cut her off. “There is nothing after life.”

She goes quiet. “Three times?” She asks finally.

I nod.

“No wonder you’ve survived all of your attempts.” She says quietly.

“I survived everything except-“ I stop. Drowning! I died when Logan drowned me! I need... water. And a weight. Or a high enough.... ledge. Ledge? Bridge. That’s it. I have to jump off of a really high bride into a very deep body of water. “I need to make a phone call,” I say quickly.

She motions to the phone on the wall. "Be my guest."

“Not on that one.”

"Why not?" She asks.

"I uh... have to call my boyfriend," I say. "I don't want you to listen."

“Oh?”

I nod. "It's going to be very dirty and explicit."

She sighs. "What phone would you use if not this one?"

“The one at the nurse’s station maybe?” I nudge her in the right direction.

“Alright.” She says, crossing her arms. “Five minutes. Claire is up there right now. I'll call up there if you're not back. Do you understand?”

"I understand," I say.

I understand that I've got to get the fuck out of here.

I get out of the bed and hesitate. “I want to get dressed,” I say.

“To go to the nurse’s station?” She asks, obviously suspicious.

I nod. “Don’t want to alarm the nurses.”

She shakes her head. “Dress.” She sighs.

I pull on a pair of shorts, shorts I’ve picked up from one of my many men, and a black tank top they found in lost and found for me. My other clothes were beyond saving. They only found the shorts because I had a bag on me from working out when I kidnapped Gabby and jumped off the hotel. They found the bag on the roof and assumed it was mine.

I needed luggage to gain access to the hotel and make it look natural. It was a very planned out process. All of my attempts are very well planned. I’m very meticulous when it comes to that. I’ve always been a planner.

“Five minutes.” She repeats.

I nod, slipping out the door. As I’m walking towards the station, scoping out my surroundings, I notice two things. One, the cat is standing by the door to the exit and two, there are no nurses at the station.

With no one around, I nod to the cat and follow it to the exit. The door appears to be locked but I find a square button on the side of the wall that opens it. This isn’t a locked ward? Nice to know.

I quietly make my way down the halls, sniffing every once and again to follow the scent of fresh air.

I actually make it to the large lobby before I run into another person.

An elderly nurse with her hair in a high bun. The woman’s skin is dark and wrinkled. “Visiting hours are over, honey.” She says.

“I got lost.” I lie instantly. “I’m leaving now.”

She nods before getting an odd look on her face. “Where are your shoes?” She asks.

“Uh... lost them,” I say. “I was visiting my sister and she threw up on me. Shoes were ruined. My car is right outside, though. It won’t be a long walk.”

She nods again. “And why do you have one of our hospital bracelets around your wrist?”

I look down at my right wrist. Fuck. How could I have forgotten to take that off?

“My sister and I were both admitted for a car crash,” I say. “I was released about an hour ago.”

“Thought you were visiting your sister.” The woman crosses her arms.

“I was- after I was released.”

“Visiting hours were over three hours ago.” She says. “If you were only released an hour ago- you can’t have possibly been visiting your sister.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I uh...”

“Wait a minute.” She says. “I know you.”

“No- you don’t,” I say quickly.

“Yes, I do.” She says. “They’ve got your face in our system- says to keep you in the hospital at all times.” She puts her hands on her hips. “What are you sneaking off for? You should be in bed.”

“I just need to go to my car,” I say.

“For...?”

Fuck. Ah.. cell phone... wallet... uh... “Cigarettes!” I say quickly. “Cigarettes. I’m a smoker. I’ve been in here so long and I’m dying for a smoke.”

“You didn’t come here in a car.” She says smugly.

“Oh my god- that woman’s in labor!” I point over her shoulder.

She instantly turns around. “What woman-“

I take off running past her, sprinting to the door.

Got to get out. Can’t stay here. I have got to run.

I make it out the glass doors and don’t know where to go. I’m thinking of running in a random direction just as the cat shows back up, daring me to follow it.

I’m noticing now how unbelievably tired I am.

I run for a few blocks before slumping over on a sidewalk bench.

I’m safe. They can’t ID me here. I can do what I have to do... in the morning. There’s no way they’ll find me. That fucking pill... I can fight it. I just... need... to close my eyes... for a few minutes.

A few minutes. Just a few...

.............Minutes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can always hit me up on tumblr. I’m mass producing stuff but I swear- nothing is being over looked or neglected. I just have a lot of different plot bunnies bouncing around in my head and I’m having to push them ALLLL out. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Murdock, judge orders, and fishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter talks about a suicide attempt- but is not graphic. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you’d like- leave me a kudos or a comment! 
> 
> I like writing this one so much that a new update will probably come out every two or three days. It’s very easy to write right now and I have a lot to say!

Laura’s dodging my calls. Just my fucking luck.

She visits him and suddenly she won’t share information with me. Important information- at that. How the fuck am I supposed to prove he needs help if my daughter- the only person he’ll fucking talk to- won't tell me what his condition is??

The two of them teaming up on me is not something we need right now. Nothing gets done that way. It's us fighting in this huge fucking circle that goes nowhere. And we don't need that right now. Nows the time when we need to have each other's backs. To stand together to stay strong. We can't do that if Laura is hiding information and Daken won't cooperate.

Not that I expected him to. He never cooperates when it's not convenient for him. What I think he doesn't realize is that this is the best option. The safest option. If he's with me- even though he's sick- no one can use him. And he doesn't need people to see that he's in a vulnerable state and then use it against him. If he's with me, with the x-men, with his sisters- he'll be safer than anywhere else on earth.

I left Laura six voicemails trying to explain that. She hasn't returned any of my calls or even acknowledged that she got them.

I don’t know what Daken said to her- but we need to get on the same page. Right fucking now. All of us.

His sisters are worried- I could tell when I talked to Laura and I know Gabby well enough to know that this would be hitting her hard too.

The boy? I have no idea how he's doing. How he's handling this. How he's working through it. I simply do not know. And that fucking pisses me off. When I said he was my kid- that should have been the end of it.

What I do know about all of this is that he’s bad off. I know it. I gathered that from the one conversation I’ve been able to have with Laura on the topic. But... I don’t know how bad off.

It could be 'help me out with my fiances' bad off. It could be 'I'm completely out of control' bad off. It could very well be 'help me' bad off. Completely out of control and help me go well together. If he's a mix of those- I will step in immediately.

I know how bad this can get. I watched my momma go through a bout of madness'. Institutionalized her. She was never the same. Ever.

I'm scared that's going to happen to my boy.

My mother and I were never close- which is why I think I'm such a shit parent- but I knew when she got sick. If Daken did in digging into his family history- he'd learn that it is full of 'mysterious illnesses'. Madness- in other words.

I know he's going to need help. That's it. He's going to need some kind of help.

I'm betting he knows it too.

I can't let them send him away in three weeks. Not if I can stop it.

This won't be like what happened to my mother.

He belongs with us- his family. We'll figure out how to deal with everything- we just need him taken care of.

That train of thought is what lead me to Hell’s Kitchen today. I usually stay on the other side of the city- but this is a special occasion.

This whole situation is a special occasion. We've never been through this before.

Which is another reason why I need to talk to my daughter.

I guess I'm going to have to bite the bullet and go to her apartment.

She's asked for her own space- which is why I don't bother her that often. But like I said- this is a special occasion.

Hopefully, Murdock will think so, too.

I sit in the small office waiting room- feeling a little antsy, I’ll admit.

I know the boy needs help and I also know he’s too ‘scared’ to admit to me he needs help.

What am I going to say to him? 'Oh, dad's here to save the day?' Please. He'd laugh in my face. We don't have a good relationship.

And somewhat selfishly I'm hoping this will be our chance to strike one up.

It's not like I don't love the boy- I do. I love all of 'em.

But... he's just so difficult sometimes.

I look at him and I see her- but then I look at his actions and I see me.

It's a mix that shouldn't exist in a person. He deserves peace. Not this eternal battle he seems to be fighting.

Now I guess it gets worse.

I just need to get in to see him. Then I can make a decision. Then WE can make a decision.

I just need to see him. I just need to know what's going on. I just need... NEED information.

I can't move forward without intel- that's just how things work.

I haven't even talked to the other x-men about this. I can't bring myself to. They already know I can be a shitty father- but this? This will be throwing it into their faces.

A silver lining in all of this is that he gave them my name when they admitted him. Maybe it’s a subconscious cry for help?

Maybe subconsciously he knew someone would trace the name back to me. Maybe.

I don’t know what he was thinking when he did it- but it had to mean something. Even if he doesn’t think so or that he didn’t do it on purpose. It’s got to mean something.

The atmosphere in the office is calming. I guess it’d have to be to get people to relax enough for Murdock to figure out what’s going on with them. Not that his ‘super senes’ won’t tell him right away if they’re lying or embellishing what they’re telling him.

I just hope I’m in the right place to get what I need to get done.

Surely he’ll be willing to help once I explain the situation.

I've gotta do right by my boy. That's just the raw of it. I've got to do right by my boy. I never have. I've tried- but I never really made the effort he needed.

Now? I got no choice. He needs someone. That person has gotta be me. I don't know why... but it just has to.

The office is done in this hideous shade of blue. Still calming, but hideous nonetheless. You’d have to be blind to...

Oh, wait. Ha. Caught myself.

Murdock comes out of his office and stands in the doorway of the small 'lobby', arms crossed. His scent gives nothing away. I tried to give him as much information as I could spare when I left him the message. He called me back with some vague response- told me to come in.

I stare at him over for a minute. In his daytime outfits- you could almost miss how muscular he is. How the years of fighting have worn him into something short of a weapon. He's good at hiding it. Only a few people know who he is. He keeps it that way.

It's always weird to see him in his ‘professional attire’- a gray suit instead of his usual red getup. Nice to see him without the horns from time to time.

His thick shades cover his eyes and his tie somehow matches his outfit perfectly- even though I know he can’t see it. How the hell does he do that?

Though he can’t see me, he looks directly at me. “Logan.” He says.

“Freaky how you can do that,” I say, standing up.

“You smell like cigar smoke and whiskey.” He says, smirking a little. “It’s hard to miss.”

I have to chuckle.

Matt opens the door to his office wider. “Please, take a seat.”

I take a seat in front of a large black desk and watch in amazement as he maneuvers around his office.

The office is bigger than I expected. I don't know how he finds his way around. The furniture is minimal- I guess to cut down on expenses and him having to bump into things. The only thing that really takes up much space is his desk. All the papers on top have covered in small bumps- brail. He has to get them in brail so he can go through them. I take a moment to think of how aggravating that must be.

“So, I got your message.” He says, sitting in an office chair.

“I figured,” I say.

He nods. “The first step we need to take- the very first thing we need to do, before anything else, is discerning whether your son is a danger to himself or those around him.” He says, tenting his fingers in front of him. "Is he in danger of hurting himself or anyone else?"

"Well.. yea," I say.

"To which?"

"Both." I say. "he's got claws in his hands and a healing factor. He's hard to take down. And if sets his mind to something- he usually carries it out."

I know that from hard earned experience.

"Do you think he's gunning for someone?" He asks.

"Honestly?"

He nods.

"No." I say. "he seems more intent on self-harm."

"Explain his behavior," Matt says. "Is it erratic at all?"

“Well... he walked off a roof that was fifty stories up.... and he kidnapped his little sister...”I say, "And he's seeing stuff."

"Seeing stuff?" Matt asks.

"Like... hallucinations," I say. "Stuff that's not real. Stuff that tells him to do stuff. Something about a cat- I think?"

"Hmm... a cat?"

"A cat," I say. "I don't know much more than that."

"Can you prove that he's seeing these things?"

"Possibly?" I say unsurely. "Depending on the outcome of this conversation."

Matt nods. "So he's seeing things," he says. "And suicidal. DId he intend to harm his little sister?"

"No." I say. "he wouldn't do that. I know that for sure."

There's a small pause before he says, "can you prove it?" he's repeating himself.

"Yes," I say.

"Hallucinations are usually a factor that sways judges." He says. "to be quite honest- it freaks people out."

"Yea, I know," I say. "But I can't do anything about it because I haven't been able to get ahold of any of his medical records. All I know is from what I saw and a talk I had with my daughter. Now I can't get the girl on the phone and the hospital still won't give me any information. My hands are tied Matt, but the boy... the boy needs help. More so than he ever has in his life. He's in danger." I try explaining it all without getting too emotional. I'm pissed. I'm annoyed. But mostly... I think I'm scared. Seeing him like that... hearing what he's done to himself... it hit me hard.

“I see.” Matt nods.

“Ha,” I say without meaning to. "Sorry." I apologize when I see the unamused look on his face.

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “And is he aware that you’d like to get involved?” Matt asks.

“Nope.” I lean back in my chair. “He’d shut me out as soon as the sentence left my mouth.”

“Do you have any medical proof that he is unfit to make his own decisions?” He asks.

“That’s what I’m trying to get,” I say. “They won’t tell me anything about it without his consent or a court whatever saying I can have it.”

“You’ll need a court order of some sort,” Matt says. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Yea,” I say. “That’s what I’m saying. And I’m coming to you... because well... with our work history being considered-“

“You want me to expedite the process.” He says.

“Yea,” I repeat. “Yea, that’d be nice.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “I know one of the judges downtown personally.” He says. “Let me get him on the phone and see if we can do something to help you get what you need as soon as possible. He works in a sort of family court," he says. "They can be known to handle situations like this. Of course, I can’t promise anything. There are many codes and conduct and hoops to jump through to-“

“Please,” I say. “I’m begging you. The sooner the better. I’ve got to know what’s going on with my kid. He’s apparently very ill.”

Matt nods again. “Wait here.” He says. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He gets up and leaves- I guess going to the other phone.

I can’t really hear much so I just sit here and think.

The boy doesn’t want me involved.

Laura said he’s too scared to involve me.

What does that say about me as a parent?

Poor thing’s walkin’ off of buildings and he won’t give me a call. A simple "Logan I need help", woulda did it. I wouldn't have turned him away. Maybe... that's what he's expecting? Me to turn my back on him? I don't know why he would think that... but I understand somewhat if he does. All feelings are valid and all that touchy-feely bullshit.

The boy was so pale. So out of it. I didn't know what to do. I just kind of froze.

I know it’s bad- I do- I just want to know how bad it is.

And if push comes to shove- I’ll just go take him. Hold him somewhere safe for a little while until he agrees to let me help- something like that.

But... now that I’m thinkin’ about it- that might not be the best solution for his ‘mental state’.

It’s gotta be something mental. If he’s trying to kill himself and acting erratic as hell- then it’s a mental problem. Mental problems can be fixed with enough work. And if they aren’t ‘fixed’ they can be handled in the very least.

I let my mind wander for a moment before exhaling and calming myself down. Serenity. Peace. Shit like that. Things that will calm my nerves and ease my hair-trigger temper- as Slim says.

Matt keeps me waiting for about twenty minutes before he comes back in.

“Judge Mason’s pulling some strings.” He says, sitting back down. “You should be able to obtain his medical records. He was calling right after he got off the phone with me. He wants you to get what you need and get a lawyer if you wish to proceed with any Medical Attorney process.”

“That easy?” I say suspiciously.

“It’s an important matter,” Matt says. “Your son has proven to be erratic and dangerous to himself and those around him. Besides- Judge Mason usually presides over cases like this. And with your career being kept in mind... and the fact that you have six razor blades in your hands... he wants to help you as swiftly as possible. Mutant cases get a lot of attention and he doesn't want that right now. He'd rather handle everything swiftly and quietly.”

“Ha.” I chuckle. “Thanks, Matt.”

He nods. “Head to the hospital. It’s being put on paper- but Mason’s calling the head of the hospital directly to give the order. Usually, this takes a few weeks but...” he shrugs.

I stand up from my chair. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me several.” He chuckles. “I hope your son's okay."

I nod but then remember he can’t see me. “I’m headin’ to the hospital now,” I say, feeling like I have to announce that I’m leaving.

“Enjoy the rest of your day.” He says pleasantly.

I open the door and head out of the office and to my truck. Shitty old thing but a good ride. It's more rust than red at this point.

The hospital is about thirty minutes away. I take lesser known roads that won’t be populated.

The whole ride I’m thinking about what I’m going to say to the doctors. What I’m going to say to Daken himself. I don’t really know what I’m working with here. All I know is that the higher-ups- legal types- are trusting me to do the right thing. That’s all I need to know.

The right thing is always hard to do. And it's never really cut and dry. If I do get involved, the boy will protest. Unfortunately for him, I've gone completely over his head on this one. He'll have no say in the matter and that will drive him up the wall... but it's the right thing to do.

I pull into the hospital parking lot and exhale stale air I didn’t know I was holding in.

The boy’s in there. Boy’s sick. The boy needs help.

Let’s do this. Get it done.

Gotta save the boy at all costs. Time to put one foot in front of the other, swallow all the fear-fueled bullshit- and put the boy first.

I open the truck door and step out into the parking lot.

I don’t like hospitals. Never have. The whole idea of being in a place of sick and dying people just turns me off.

I make it the front desk inside, ask who his doctor is. I use my own name- seeing as most of the hospital probably recognizes him by that.

The woman at the desk avoids my eye contact.

“I got an order from a judge,” I explain. "He's my son."

She nods. “I understand. I’ll page Dr. Wren.”

She knows Daken's case well enough to his doctor off the top of her head. That must be saying something.

She speaks into the loudspeaker, asking the man to come to the lobby.

“He’ll be here momentarily.” She says, still avoiding eye contact.

“Thanks,” I say, a little nervous if we’re being honest.

Why won't she meet my gaze? It's like something bad's happened and she's afraid to tell me.

I stand by the desk, scanning the large lobby. Elevators top the right side down a small hallway behind the desk. That means stairs are probably on the other end.

Windows line the walls and each hallway is capped by a large set of wooden doors. Guess that’s where the patients are.

The man from the other day, the small man, walks up and nods to me. “Logan.” He says.

“How is he?” I cut to the chase.

“It’s hard to say.” He says.

“Don't start that bullshit," I growl. "I got a judge-“

“It’s hard to say because he isn’t here.” He cuts me off. "I'm aware of your judge's order."

It takes a minute to process that. “You let him go??” I ask. "Why the hell would you let him go??"

The man shakes his head. “He left of his own accord. I didn't 'let' him do anything.”

“And he was released??? Just like that. You let him walk out the doors.” I growl, pissed off as hell.

“It’s more of a ‘ran off’ situation,” Wren says.

“When did he ‘run off’?” I ask.

“Last night.” He says. “We called the police- they’re searching as best they can. If they find him- he will be returned promptly.”

“Why didn’t you call anyone??”

He ran off?? Their security is lax enough for him to not only get out of his room but get out of the hospital as well? Fuck. He is in the wrong place. If they cannot keep him safe we will have to make other arrangments.

“Who was there to call?” He asks. “He won’t let us release his information.”

“This is a special circumstance,” I growl. “You KNOW he’s sick. You KNOW he's in danger. You shoulda fucking called someone.”

The man nods. “I’m just doing what the protocols are for situations like this.” He says. “My hands were literally tied.”

"Hands tied my ass," I growl. "Tell me what's going on."

"Well... it's rather difficult to understand without the charts handy," he says.

"Explain it slowly then," I say as calmly as I can manage- but it's still through gritted teeth. “What’s wrong with him?”

He hesitates. “His brain is producing an unknown chemical. Its whole chemical structure is changing. We don't know if he needs it, we don't know why he's producing it, we don't know if this is something he was born with or subjected to. We don't know much of anything.”

I watch him for a long second. “So he’s nuts?” I ask.

He glares at me. “Yes, he’s very ‘ill’.” He says. "Not 'nuts'. Ill."

“What can you do to help him?” 'Ill' my ass. Boys nuts. Plain as day.

“We can try a regime of medication- but we don’t know what this chemical is. We’ve never seen it before. Ergo we don’t know how to treat it. It's going to take time.”

Time? Yea- I guess it will.

"How much time do we have?" I ask.

"I'm making a guess that he's got a little under three weeks before the chemical really sets in," he says. "That's when we'll really know what we're working with. The chemical structure of his brain changes everytime we run a new test. It's like it's ramping up for something. There is definitely an endgame in play." he says. "We just don't know what it is."

That makes sense. I have to will myself to calm down. “Will the suicide attempts keep happening?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“And... the cat?” I ask, remembering what Laura told me.

“The cat is a frequent visitor. It will most likely either continue at its steady pace or worsen. He's solely convinced that the cat is something to be followed. We can't talk him out of it when the damn thing shows up. He is compelled to follow it.”He chuckles darkly, "Some of the nurse's call it "Alice disorder'."

"Alice disorder?" I ask in confusion.

"Becuase he's chasing a cat. Alice chased a rabbit but the connection was made."

"Alice? As in Alice in Wonderland?" I ask.

The doctor nods. "And much like Alice, your son finds himself in a world of madness." He says. "Honestly at this point- I don't even think HE knows why he's acting like he is."

"He's confused," I say.

"He suffers from a lot of confusion." The doctor says. "He needs serious help discerning what is real and what is not."

"So the cat is a pest, but is it dangerous?"

"The cat is bothersome, but the shadow man is much more concerning." He says. "The cat is a mild inconvenience. The shadow man is a major incident."

Okay, okay. Good. Information is good.

They can’t tell me where the fuck he is- but it’s still good.

"The cat can be handled," he says. "We're working on it."

“And the shadow figure?”

“Haunts his dreams, apparently.” The doctor says. "When he shows up, your son is inconsolable. He is frightened, he is angry, he is anxious- it's a very bad combination in him."

I nod again. “Anything else?”

“Your son as a great disdain for anyone who would presume to have authority over him. I'm sure with his disorder- that's to be expected.” He says.

I actually laugh at that. “That’s not his ‘disorder’,” I say. “That’s just Daken.”

“So it is.” He says. “You’re free to look over his files- test results and such- while the police find him. They called and said they had a tip earlier.”

I exhale. “How far could he have gotten?”

“In his state seeing as he was drugged with a powerful sleep aid- not far.” He says. “Any information you want is yours as per the judge’s request.” He smirks. “You must have one hell of a lawyer.”

“You could say that,” I say.

"Are you going to presume Power of Attorney?" He asks.

"Do you think I need to?"

He just nods, not saying anything.

I stand here staring out one of the windows that line the wall. This is bad. So so, so bad.

We’re quiet for a minute. “With your son’s healing,” he says. “He can’t completely kill himself.” He pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. They’ll find him. They always do.”

“I’ve never been there for him,” I admit. “Ever.”

He needed me... and I wasn't there.

I failed him just like I failed his momma.

"And his mother?" He asks.

"Died before he was born," I say, staring out the window still.

"He does seem to crave a maternal figure." The doctor says.

"Point is- he needed us and neither of us was there," I say. "That's why he doesn't want me involved. He's convinced I'll turn my back on him or hurt him. Our relationship isn't very good."

“That’s... difficult.” He says.

“He doesn’t trust me,” I tell him. "At all."

“I don’t think he trusts anyone,” Wren says. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. The past is the past. You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

“But he doesn’t want me here,” I say.

“With people in his position, as cruel as it may seem, what they want is not always what they need.” He smiles. “You’re here now. And to be perfectly honest- He needs you. But he also needs structure. Security. Someone with a gentle touch when it comes to dealing with him. Things like that.” He looks at me for a long minute while I try to think of what to say. “Now my question to you is, can you provide him with what he needs?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

“Can you open your home and heal the damage?” He asks. “Even when it gets hard? Even when he swears he hates you and doesn’t want you there?”

“Yes,” I repeat.

“Then you are in the right place.” He smiles again.

I inhale and hold it for a second, exhaling and trying to calm my nerves. “Why did he run?” I ask.

“Honestly? I don’t know. He was with one of our more... shall we say ‘challenging’ nurses? She was warned several times how to interact with him. I think, in all honesty, she neglected to heed the many many warnings she was given. So the blame is not entirely on him.”

“So what- she was mean to him and he ran off?” I ask.

He shrugs. “His mind is, in his own words, ‘an enigma’. We don’t know why he works like he works. It makes his moves increasingly harder to anticipate.”

Yea, that sounds about right.

“Has anyone seen him since last night?” I ask.

He nods. “Several people. Several calls about a disgruntled man, attractive in several accounts, walking downtown with no shoes and wavering as if he’d been drugged. Several people have tried to help him.”

“Fuck.” I hiss, rubbing the back of my head. “You shoulda called someone. Me. Laura. Anyone.”

“I did.” He says. “I called the police, as I am supposed to do in this situation.”

“Police are no good at this kind of thing,” I say.

He smiles, looking behind me. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Yea? And why’s that?”

He points over my shoulder. “Look who’s coming in.”

I turn around and am greeted with the sight of my eldest being manhandled out a cop car in handcuffs.

“They found him.” I exhale.

“And he is very agitated,” Wren observes. “Perhaps is best if he doesn’t see you as soon as he hits the door.”

That’s... true.

“Go stand by the elevators.” He says. “He won’t see you and you can observe one of his more agitated states.”

I nod, walking off quickly towards the elevators.

I hear him as soon as they near the door.

“Get your hands off of me or I'll fucking take them!"

“That’s enough.” An older cop says as he’s opening the door. "Let's just calm down."

“Get off of me!” He snarls, trying to pull away. "Let me go!" He struggles against the cop. It's a good display of strength but I can tell he's tiring himself out.

"Easy there, bud." The cop says.

"I will take your fucking hands if you don't get them off of me!" Daken yells.

"There's no need for that." The cop laughs. "Doc," He pushes Daken forward.

My son makes it to where the man is dragging him- fighting every step of the way.

This is one hell of a temper tantrum.

"Come on," The cop coaxes. "This is the best place for you."

"Let me go!"

“James.” The doctor says in greeting, watching him.

“Get this fucking pig off of me!” Daken says.

The boy is worked up.

“He’s a very nice policeman who has helped us find you. The last thing I’d call him is a ‘pig’.”

“You can’t randomly pull people off of the fucking street!” Daken snarls.

"Didn't pull you off the street- now did I?" the cop smiles.

"Let me go! This is kidnapping!"

"Easy now." The cop says. "Let's just calm down and figure this all out."

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot." Daken snarls.

"He's been like this for an hour." The cop chuckles. "Trashed my car, trashed the station, somehow managed to free two horses from our mounted patrol unit- he's had a rough day."

“Your feet and legs are covered in dirt.” The Wren observes my child... “And you’re soaking wet.”

“He decided to take a swim.” The cop says.

“May I ask where?” Wren asks patiently.

“Nowhere,” Daken growls. "It's none of your business."

“In a river.” The cop says. “Which he entered by means of jumping off a very high bridge with a very big weight tied around his ankle. He’s lucky there was a tour boat in the water- he was easily fished out.”

“That is very lucky.” Wren agrees. “Now, are you going to tell me why you ran away?” He asks.

“No,” Daken says.

“Are you going to tell me why you wanted to drown yourself?” He asks patiently.

“No,” Daken repeats, looking down.

“Did it have something to do with the cat?” He asks.

“No,” Daken says, a lot quieter.

“I don’t think you’re being honest.” The doctor says, taking his chin and making him look into his eyes. “James- or should I say, Daken- were you following something you shouldn’t have been?”

“What did you say?” Daken asks in surprise.

“Daken. That’s your name.” He says. “A little birdy identified you.”

He shakes his head loose.

“The nurse said you were talking about a cat.” The doctor says, looking at my child with pity in his eyes. “Did the cat tell you to jump?”

“Cats don’t talk,” Daken says.

“But did you follow it?” The man asks.

Daken glares at him.

“Did you follow the cat to the bridge?” The man says.

I see the cop shift nervously.

"It's none of your business!"

"You are my patient- that makes it my business," Wren says. "Did you follow the cat?"

"I don't want to answer that!"

"He passed out on a bench last night." The cop says. "Runoff when an officer woke him up this morning. We've been chasing him all day."

"Daken," Wren says patiently, "Did you know what you were doing when you jumped off that bridge?"

"Yes!" He groans. "Yes, yes yes! I did. Stop asking me stupid questions!"

"If you want me to stop asking questions, you'll have to provide me with honest answers." The doctor crosses his arms. "Did you hear something tell you to jump?"

There's a long pause.

"Did something guide you out of your room or to the bridge?" He asks.

Daken shakes his head.

"Daken... please. You know the answer to this."

“Yes,” Daken says so quietly that it’s almost a whisper. "Now fuck off."

“And have we not learned that the cat does not wish you well? That it’s intents are to harm and trick you?” The doctor asks patiently.

I can't believe I just witnessed all of this.

"Thank you for your honesty." The doctor smiles. "Now, answer me this, did you know what you were doing when you jumped?"

"It was fuzzy." He admits. "Leave me alone, now."

"Did you know what you were doing when you trashed this officer's car, station, and freed the horses?"

"Fuzzy," Daken says.

"I see." The doctor nods. "Thank you again for your honesty. We can move forward now and put this whole mess behind us."

“Are you gonna throw me in my room or not?” Daken asks.

“Oh, you’re going to your room.” The doctor says. “And we’re going to talk about all of this. We have another test for you to take.”

“Lucky me,” Daken says.

The doctor nods. “Thank you, officer.” He says to the cop. “I’ll take him from here.”

The cop smirks. “Take care of him- doc. He’s as wild as they come.”

“We’re well prepared,” Wren says, taking Daken by the shoulders.

“Keep the cuffs.” The cop says. “You’re gonna need them.”

He walks off, leaving Daken with his doctor.

“You can’t run away like that.” The doctor says, taking him by the crook of the arm. “Come along.” He says. “We’ll need to get you changed,” Daken says nothing. “Did you eat while you were gone?” He asks. “I bet you didn’t. I’ll have the nurses run to the cafeteria and pick you up something.”

The doctor looks over his shoulder at me, nodding ever so slightly.

“Can I just go to bed?” Daken asks as they hit the door.

“No.” The doctor says.

The doors close and I can’t hear them anymore.

I take my phone from my pocket and dial Laura. Not surprisingly she doesn’t pick up. I go straight to voicemail. “Hey, Laura,” I say to the machine. “I got a judge to sign off on getting your brother’s information. There’s no need to hide from me anymore- I know everything. Give me a call when you get this.” I press the red circle on the screen that ends the call. “Fuck,” I say to myself.

As I’m turning around, an elderly nurse greets me with a folder. “These are the files you were given permission to have.” She says. “Well, copies of them. I also have Dr. Wren’s number in there if you have any questions.” She smiles. “These are yours to keep and as per the judge’s orders, we can talk to you about him anytime you call.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the blue folders.

She smiles and walks off towards the elevators.

With the files in one hand and the phone in the other, I leave the hospital and head back to my car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the sisters, a family meeting, and a knock out attorney.


	6. Doctors, upsets, and fathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes in helping someone, especially someone with a mental illness who can’t make the best of calls, you kinda gotta go against what they want. Trust me- never in the history of mankind has anyone asked to go to a pyschward. They’re put there for their own safety. 
> 
> So this chap seems a little cruel. But just remember the characters are doing what they think is best. It’s not about malice or cruelty, but love and fear. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.  
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> If there is any issue of tagging, please let me know so I can fix it!
> 
> ********somehow my editor (my Grammarly app- amazing thing for when you right like a madwoman and have dyslexia when it comes to typing shit- missed several things in this chapter. They have been fixed. I swear I'm not an idiot- I just type really, really fast and in doing so butcher several words in the English language. Thanks for bearing with me! I'll run it through twice next time!*********************

This conversation is way overdue. Gabby’s been dogging me for answers for four days now.

She deserves to know the truth. Especially since I don’t know exactly how this going to work. I got Logan’s last call three days ago. I don’t know what happened in those three days but according to Logan- he knows everything now. I sense he’s somehow sped up the legal process to get what he wants. I’m betting by means of either Daredevil or She-hulk. Both are practicing attorneys that Logan would have had access to and a work history with. They probably owe him something along the lines of a favor from some situation or another.

If he's sped up the process- He could very well have custody of Daken. Which- to be honest- I'm not sure if I like the idea of. I don't see why he has to live with Logan. Surely other arrangements could be made. There's got to be a way to keep him safe in a fashion that he's not going to be completely against.

Turning him over to Logan just seems cruel.

But I honestly don't know what's going to happen.

I know it's something- but I don't know what. And that? That bothers me. I went for a long period of my life not knowing the actual reasons behind what I was ordered to do. I don't want to feel like that within my own family. Not if I can avoid it.

The point I keep coming back to in my mind is- I don’t know when whatever is going to happen is going to happen or even if it IS going to happen, so I’ve got to prepare Gabby now. I don't want this to blindside her. And she's smart enough to know that somethings going on.

Besides that- like I said, she deserves to know. This affects her too. Daken is as much her brother as he is mine.

She stands in our living room- the spacious space that houses our couch, table, and TV that we never use. The only issue I have with this room is that it is carpeted. Jonathan and carpets do not go well together, as we're finding out more often of late.

Said animal is curled up in the kitchen under our table- hopefully not chewing on the legs. Again.

“Sooo... someone told him to save me?” Gabby asks, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re saying?”

I nod. "That's exactly what I'm saying. He was not trying to kidnap you- he was trying to get you to safety. I suspect he was trying to take you to me- he just didn't know where I was."

Gabby nods. “And that person... wasn’t real?” She asks- her tone is hard to read. That’s unusual for Gabby. I’m worried as to how this is going to go.

“No,” I confirm. “They were not.”

“So.. it’s an imaginary person?” She sounds interested now.

“It would appear so,” I say. “He’s been told that the person was not real and he’s very sorry if he scared you, I’m sure.”I try to make it sound like I've not seen him yet. I don't want her to be more upset that she will be once this news hits home for her.

“And they’re not real?” She repeats. “A really not real person?” She gasps. “Like a ghost? Is he seeing ghosts??? DId a ghost tell him I was in danger??? You can't play with messages from ghosts.” She says seriously. "That's where people go wrong in like... 50% of horror movies. I should know- I've watched them all." \

It probably was not a good idea for me to let her watch those movies, now that she's said something about it.

I don't want her to think she's in danger from something as frightful as a ghost.

“No- not like a ghost. Don’t worry-you are completely safe, Gabby. I promise. There is no ghost and Daken never meant to hurt you.”

She looks me over for a minute. “I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.” She says. “I wasn’t worried about that. He was just acting weird. Like.. talking to himself, and dodging stuff in the car that I couldn't see-” She pauses. "Was he seeing ghosts then too??"

"No, he wasn't," I say. "Becuase they weren't ghosts. They weren't real. Okay? None of what he saw or heard when he tried to save you was real."

Gabby pauses for a long minute. "I wasn't scared of him." She says. "And I wasn't scared of whatever he was seeing. I know Daken won't hurt me. If he was gonna do that- he'd have done it already."

Daken is rather fond of Gabby and hangs out with her from time to time. I've never been cautious about letting him take her. Usually, it benefits her in the way of outfits and I don't have to purchase them for her. It's a win-win for me. She gets to see our older brother, he gets to mellow out, and I don't have to buy her things.

“I know you weren’t,” I say gently. “And he knew it too- trust me. He didn’t mean to scare you.”

“But he thought I was in danger?” She asks.

“Because he had a powerful hallucination,” I say. “He can’t control them. They just happen. It’s nothing you did wrong or that even he did wrong. It’s literally out of his hands.”

“And he gets to see people no one else can all the time??” She smiles. “That’s so cool! Daken gets all the cool stuff! I wanna see imaginary ghosts! Can you imagine how awesome that must be??? I gotta call him and ask him how he does that!”

Of course, she would say that.

“Gabby,” I sigh. “This isn’t ‘cool’. He’s very sick. He's not having fun when he sees these things. They upset him very badly.”

She’s quiet for a minute. “So when’s he moving in?”She asks. "I can share my room but we'll have to get another bed. Jonathan sleeps with me so there won't be any room."

“What?” I’m taken by surprise- Gabby is really good at that.

“He’s sick. When’s he moving in? We gotta take care of him- right?” She says. "He's our brother and he's sick- it only makes sense that he would move in!"

“He... isn’t moving in,” I say.

“Oh yes, he is.” She says stubbornly. "If he needs looking after- we have to look after him! It's like in the sister bylaws."

"I would love to take care of him," I admit. "But... we're not making any headway as far as that goes. Logan-"

"Logan just needs to talk to us!" She says, waving her hand to dismiss the notion. "I know he'll see that Daken will be safe with us."

"Well, Gabby," I say gently, "He really might not be."

"What do you mean? Of course, he will!"

"I mean that he needs a lot of supervision," I say. "We're not home all the time."

Gabby exhales loudly. "He belongs with us." She says. "And that's final."

"You can't end every argument like that," I say.

"Oh yes, I can." She says. "Bring Daken here. It's where he belongs. If I have to, I'll sleep on the floor and he can have the bed."

"That's very kind of you, Gabby," I say. “But the option of him living with us was dismissed,” I say. “I tried to push it forward.”

“I’ll call him and tell him to tell his doctors that he needs to come home with us.” She smiles. “It’s as easy as that.”

"Daken doesn't know what's best for him right now. I know it sounds easy, Gabby.” I try to be gentle. “But it’s not as simple as you think it is. There are a lot of factors in play here that you don’t understand. That I don’t even understand. Until we gather more information we can’t bring him here.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. “Give me your phone.” She says.

My phone? He won't answer calls.

“He won’t...”

“Phone.” She outstretches her hand and wiggles her fingers. “Now please.”

I humor her and give her my cell phone. She enters my passcode and goes through my contacts. “Ah. Daken.” She says, clicking his name and pushing the call button.

I’ll let her find out that he’s not answering his calls on her own. There’s no point in telling her otherwise.

She lets the line ring for a second before frowning. “He’s not answering.” She says.

“He won’t,” I say. “But that’s okay. We’ll just-“

“I need to see him.” She says.

“Gabby-“

“We need to see him!” She insists. “I need to tell him I’m not mad at him.”

“He knows,” I assure her. “I promise. I told him.”

“You’ve seen him????” She stalks over to the counter and grabs my keys. “In the car.” She says. "Now young lady."

“Look-“

“In the car.” She insists. “You can take me or I can take myself.”

“You’re in your pajamas.” I point to her blue outfit with the strawberry print.

“I don’t care.” She says. “We need to go now. You saw him- I need to see him.”

I sigh. “He’s not well,” I say. “He doesn’t need to see you right now.”

“Well, I need to see him.” She says stubbornly.

She’s not backing down. I see her determination set in her features.

I have to do something to appease her.

“Do you have to physically see him, or will talking to him help?” I ask.

Gabby crosses her arms. “I guess talking to him would help.” She says. “But I still really want to see him.”

“What if I took you to see him in a few days when he’s feeling a little better and you talked to him on the phone today?”

“As long as I get to see him soon...” She says. “Yea. That’s good.”

A compromise can be reached. How fortunate. I thought she was going to put a bigger fuss.

“I’ll call the hospital,” I say. “See if he’ll talk to you.”

She nods. “That’ll work. But I need to hear from him. If they say we can't- give the phone to me."

I nod. "I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

I take the phone from her and dial the hospital's number. Talking to the nurse and asking if he’ll take Gabby’s call.

Gabby waits anxiously on our blue couch, by the pelican statue Jonathan chewed up recently. I can see her fidgeting.

There’s silence on the phone before I hear a, “He’s been asleep. Let me wake him.” The woman on the phone goes about telling him someone’s called for him. “Can I ask who is calling?” She says to me.

“Gabrielle Kinney,” I say.

“One moment.”

There’s more silence before a very tired, “Gabby?”

“Hold on,” I say, passing the phone over to her.

She takes it and says “You’re in a lot of trouble mister.”

I can’t hear his response.

“No, you listen to me.” She says in a huff. “You should not have hidden the fact that you were sick. Do you know how worried we are? You can't go around seeing ghosts and not tell anyone.”

"He's not seeing ghosts." I sigh.

She glares at me and holds up a finger- a universal "Shush I'm on the phone" sign. Logan gives it all the time when we're together and I try to interrupt his conversations.

There’s another pause.

“Pack your stuff.” She says. “You’re coming to live with us.”

“Gabby... no,” I say.

She glares at me. “You belong here.” She says.

He must be replying.

“Laura won’t take me to come to see you,” she says. “But if you don’t show up here by six-thirty tomorrow morning-“

I take the phone out of her hands.

"Hey!"She cries. "I wasn't done!"

“Ignore her,” I say to our brother. “She’s very upset.”

There’s a long pause. “I’m sorry.” He says. "I'm sorry you're both so worried."

It makes something in me soften. “It’s okay,” I say. “I know you don’t mean to upset us.”

“They’re saying I can come home.” He says, chuckling. “Finally. Did you get them to release me to you?”

I freeze. “No,” I say. “I did not.”

“Then who....?” He asks.

“One of your lovers?” I ask.

“I don’t have any lovers.” He says. “None that would take me in. Laura... who is taking me??” He sounds worried now.

I pause for a long moment. “I don’t know how you’re being released,” I say. “Let me make some calls- okay?”

“Okay.” He says- not sounding like himself at all. "But hurry, please. They're saying my ride is almost here."

“Don’t worry, Daken,” I tell him. “Focus on resting. I’ll figure this out- okay? Don’t leave with anyone until you hear back from me.”

“Okay.” He repeats.

He sounds heavily sedated.

“Okay. I’ll call you back, alright? Don’t leave with anyone.” I repeat the important part of the information.

“I got it, Laura.” He grouses. “I’m not stupid.”

“I know you aren’t,” I say, looking at Gabby, who shares my look of concern I know I’m wearing. “Stay on standby,” I say.

“Okay.” He repeats again.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m going to hang up now.”

“Fine.”

It takes a lot of strength to end the call. My fingers are automatically dialing Logan as soon as the hospital's number disappears from my screen.

“So you can call,” Logan says when he answers in a surly manner. "Only took you three fucking days."

“Are you taking Daken?” I cut off whatever lecture he's about to give me.

“What?” He asks.

“Daken- are you taking him?”

Logan is silent. “I talked about it.” He says.

“And...”

“Yea.” He says. “Yea, I’m taking him. I was gonna tell you after he settled in. ”

“Where are you taking him?” I demand.

“With me.” He says. “To the school. We’re fixing a room for him and-“

“And you’re just going to take him?” I ask. “Against his will?”

“It’s not against his will,” Logan growls.

“Then he knows you’re involved? Because I just talked to him. He doesn’t know who he’s being released to.”

“I haven’t told him yet.” He says. “But I got a court order to obtain is information... and I saw him myself. He’s coming with me.”

I exhale slowly. “We should talk to him about this,” I say. "He sounds very worried."

Logan is quiet again. “We should.” He finally agrees. “Can you and your sister meet me at the hospital?”

“Yes,” I say. “Let me get her in the car.”

There’s a long silence again. “This is for the best, Laura.” He says. “I’ve seen the tests. It’s for the best.”

“I don’t agree with you,” I say honestly. “And I don’t think I ever will.”

“I’ll change your mind.” He says. “I have a room set up for him, people to watch over him, a whole plan of attack-“

“You can’t ‘attack’ this, Logan,” I say in exasperation. “It’s not that kind of problem. That’s why you can’t do this.”

“I can do this.” He says. “I owe it to him.”

“Then let me take him,” I say.

“You don’t have space or the means,” Logan says. “Boy needs a lot of supervision.”

“Logan...”

“I owe it to his momma,” Logan says. “I gotta take care of the baby. I owe her that much.”

I inhale deeply. “I understand,” I say. “I’ll meet you in thirty minutes.”

“Make it twenty.” He says. “I’m already here.”

Of all the days he picks to show up early.

“I’m leaving now.” I motion for Gabby to follow me- pajamas and all- grabbing my car keys from her and heading to the door. Gabby is smiling as she reaches the door. She doesn’t know what this encounter will entail.

“I’ll be here in the lobby.” He says. “I’m talking to his doctor.”

“Don’t go see him until I get there,” I order, opening the door and ushering Gabby out, closing it and locking it behind us.

“Understood.” He says. “Drive carefully.”

“Understood.” I mirror his statement and hang up the phone.

Gabby is beaming. “So he’s coming home??” She asks.

I nod. “With Logan,” I say as we're walking down the hall.

She stops moving. “But... not with us?”

I nod again. “Logan seems to think he’d be best suited at the school. With more supervision.”

Gabby frowns. “But we can still see him, right?”

“Yes,” I say. “I doubt Logan will have him cut off contact with us. It would be very harmful to him. In his state, he doesn't need any more upsets.”

She looks up at me. “Laura... how sick is he?” she asks. "Really? What are we dealing with here?"

I glance down. “He’s very sick,” I say. “His mind is... not well.”

Gabby nods. “So like... crazy sick?”

“Ill,” I say. “He prefers the term ‘ill’. Don’t call him ‘crazy’. He doesn’t like it and it upsets him.”

“Got it.” She says quickly. “And Logan’s just... taking him?”

I nod.

We make it to the parking lot of our apartment complex in silence.

The drive over there isn’t much talking either. Gabby watches out her window, rolling it up and down. A person would assume that's out of boredom- but I know it's nerves.

Gabby looks at me as we pull into the parking lot. “This isn’t a happy visit,” She asks quietly. “Is it?”

I shake my head. “No.”

She nods. “But we need to support him?”

“Yes.”

She nods again. “Let’s do this.”

We exit the car and walk up the hospital.

Like he said, Logan is in the lobby, dressed in his uniform no less.

He nods to us as we enter.

“Do you really think that’s necessary?” I say.

“What?”

I motion to him. “Your costume?”

“Was on a mission.” He says. “Came straight over.”

“You should change before you go see him,” I say. “Or at least take your mask off.”

Logan nods, pulling his mask off and holding it in his hand. “Better?”

“As good as we’re going to get.” I murmur.

“Laura,” he says softly, “I know you don’t agree with this-“

“Daken would be better with us!” Gabby interjects.

Logan looks at her fondly. “Sorry kid.” He says. “He’s staying with me- where I know he’s safe.”

I put my hand on Gabby’s shoulder. “There’s no use fighting it at this point,” I tell her. “We’ll have to let it play out.”

“You can see him as much as you want,” Logan says. “I promise. When he’s feeling a little more stable- he can spend the night with you, even.”

That’s better than I thought it would be.

“Fine,” I say. “I don’t agree with your decision but...”

“We need to be on the same page before we go and see him,” Logan says. “He needs us to be a secure family unit.”

I exhale slowly. “I don’t agree with you,” I repeat.

“Just don’t verbally object, okay?” Logan says. “He needs to think we’re standing together.”

We’re all silent for a minute.

“Can we go see him now?” Gabby asks. “I’m the only one who hasn’t seen him yet.”

“I’ll let you two go first,” Logan says. “His doctor’s gonna talk to him about the whole situation- don’t say anything about it, okay?”

We both nod.

“Gabby- I mean it,” Logan says. “He’ll get really upset. You don’t want to upset your brother- do you?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Then don’t say anything yet, okay?”

“Okay.” She agrees.

I take her by the shoulder and we go to the room.

The ‘possibly psychotic’ sign is replaced with a simple ‘do not agitate’ sign. I suppose the ‘possibly’ has been removed from the situation.

Before I open the door, I turn to my little sister. “Gabby, this might be a little alarming,” I tell her.

“Yea?”She sounds slightly nervous.

I nod. “He’s tied to the bed- but they’re not hurting him, okay? No matter what he says- remembers, they are not hurting him. If they let him loose, he hurts himself. Okay? He is in more danger from himself than is from anyone else.”

Gabby nods. “I got it.”

“Try not to be too alarmed,” I say. “He’s very easily agitated.”

She nods.

“Okay.” I push the door open. He’s sleeping on the bed and his arm is host to several IVs, tied down far more securely than he was when last I saw him.

We walk to his bedside and he takes no notice of us.

“Daken?” I ask quietly.

He opens his eyes and looks at us for a long minute. “Hey.” He says. His voice is quiet and he talks with a slur.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“I’ve been better.” He says.

“Are you in pain?” Gabby asks.

Daken smiles when he sees her. “No.”

“Okay, good.” She says. “I’ve been really worried about you.”

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She nods. “I know you didn’t.”

“Gabby, I would never hurt you.” He says.

“I know.” She repeats. “I didn’t think you would.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “What time is it?”

“10 AM,” I say. “Has your doctor spoken with you yet?”

He inhales. “He said something about going home.” He pauses. “He didn’t say with who... I was hoping it was you.”

“It’s not,” I say. “But don’t worry about it- okay? You’re going to be fine.”

He nods. “I’m so tired.” He says.

“I think you’ve been sedated,” I say.

“That makes sense.” He says with a nod, closing his eyes.

“Did you try to harm yourself again?” I ask.

He nods. “I ran away.”

“I told you not to do that.”

“I tried.” He says. “The police found me. Brought me back. They started giving me all this medication. I don’t even know what it is. No one would explain it to me.”

“I’m sure that’s very frustrating,” I say.

Gabby’s been very quiet. That’s not like her.

"You okay, Gabby?" He asks.

"Yea." She says. "I want to untie you, though."

"Please do." He says.

I grab her shoulder. "Not a good idea."

"What if he has to pee?" she asks.

"I'm sure the nurses have taken care of that," I assure her.

"What if he's itchy?"

"Then we'll scratch the itch for him," I say. "Do not untie him."

"Laura..." he groans. "Let the girl do what she wants."

"You're not getting loose until your doctor says you can," I say. "And that's final."

He shakes his head. "Laura in charge- huh?"

"Someone has to be," I smirk a little.

"Gabby- can you get me that water bottle?" He asks.

"Is this a trick?" She asks.

"It's not- I promise."

Gabby nods and walks over to his bedside, retrieving a water bottle.

"How are you gonna drink it?" she asks.

"Straws are on the table," he says. "One of you hold it for me, please."

I walk over and grab a straw, taking the bottle from my youngest sibling and placing the straw inside.

"Here you go, Daken." I hold the bottle for him and let him drink for a few seconds.

"Thanks," he says sleepily.

"You sound so sleepy," Gabby says.

I put the water back on the table and stay by his bedside.

“I’m so tired.” He repeats.

“You need sleep.” I agree. “Do you want me to go get your doctor so he can explain what's going on and you can get some sleep?”

“Please don’t.” He says. “I don’t want to deal with him right now. I want to sleep.”

“You’re much calmer than you were.” I hope that comes off as praise.

“I’m too tired to fight.” He says. “I .. don’t want to fight anymore.”

He says that now... but when Logan gets involved- I’m sure there will be some kind of altercation.

“You need to talk to your doctor,” Gabby says. “He can help you. That’s what doctors do.”

Daken smiles again. “Not this one.” He says.

We’re all silent for a moment. “Daken... why did you run away?” I ask.

“Nurse was being an asshole.” He says.

“Oh?”

He nods. “Made me take a pill, touched my teeth, wouldn’t leave me alone...”

“She... touched your teeth?” Gabby asks in confusion. “Why would she touch your teeth?”

“I smashed some of them when I... fell. I need to pull them so they’ll grow back, but these assholes won’t give me a pair of pliers. They say I have to go to a dentist.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” I say. “It will be much easier than pulling them yourself. Less painful, too.”

“I don’t want to go to a dentist.” He says. “I’ve never needed one in my life.”

“It’s just for one visit,” I say gently. “You said it yourself-the teeth will grow back.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m not very good company right now.”

“That’s fine.” I soothe. “It’s completely fine. We understand that you’re tired.”

“I can’t get enough sleep.” He says. “I’m always so tired.”

Gabby walks over and takes his hand. “You’re gonna be okay.” She says. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” He says. “That actually makes me feel a little better.”

She smiles. “We love you. We’re not gonna let anything bad happen.”

He nods.

I want to say something to soothe him- but there’s a knock on the door.

A man in a white lab coat opens the door, small, skinny, not much of anything.

“Daken, I see you have visitors.” He smiles.

“Yes,” Daken says emotionlessly.

“And are these your sisters?” He asks.

“Yes.” He says.

“That’s good.” The doctor smiles before turning to us, “I’m Dr. Wren. I’ve been taking care of your brother. I’m very happy to meet the both of you.” He extends his hand to me.

“Laura.” I shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Laura.” He says, before turning to Gabby and extending his hand.

“Gabby.” She says. “I’d like to know your intentions for my brother.”

The doctor smiles. “We’re releasing him into the care of his father.” He pauses. “Your father.”

“What?” Daken asks. His tone is more alert than it has been during our entire visit.

“Your father.” The man says. “He’s agreed to take you in.”

“No,” Daken says. “No, no, no.”

“I’m aware this comes as a bit of a shock.” Dr. Wren says. “But you honestly didn’t think we would just let you go- did you? You walked off a bridge with a weight around your ankle not 4 days ago.”

Daken is shaking his head. “Not him, please. I’ll go somewhere else.”

“There is nowhere else.” The doctor says. “Now, we have to get you ready for discharge.”

“There is no discharge. If the choice is between him and staying here- I’m staying here.”

The doctor stares for a minute. “Are you aware of the Attorneys by the names of Matt Murdock and Jennifer Walters?” He asks.

“They sound familiar.” He says- still sounding upset.

The doctor nods. “They’re both very good at their jobs. Somehow, your father, in the last 24 hours, has gotten them both to pull every string they could to put you in his care. And... it worked.” He said. “You can appeal the decision if you wish- but it won't get you very far.” He smiles. “This is the best option for you. You’ll go to a good home,”

“No.” He says.

“And you’ll be taken to all the doctors you need to be taken to..”

“No- I won’t go,” Daken says.

“And you’ll have your finances paid for...” the doctor continues on like Daken hadn’t said anything.

“I’m not going.” Daken keeps on arguing.

“A roof over your head,”

“I’m. not. Going.” Daken growls.

“Food.” The doctor continues.

“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“The care you need.” The doctor is piling it onto him and it’s very clear Daken’s not taking it well.

“I won’t go.” He sounds like he’s getting cornered. The doctor has to know how bad this will be if Daken gets upset.

“And a lot of people to look after you.” The doctor smiles. “It’s not a bad deal.”

“I cannot go with Logan,” Daken growls. “You don’t understand-“

“I understand that the two of you have a sorted past.” The doctor says calmly, “But he’s willing to be here for you. If you want to get better- you’ll accept his presence in your life.”

“You can’t make me do this,” Daken says. “I won’t. I won’t go.”

“We’re about to add a nice little drug to your IV.” The doctor says. “Once that sets in- you’ll do anything we ask.”

Daken looks past him- to me. “Did you know?” He asks.

“Daken..”

“Did you know??” He demands.

“I found out this morning,” I say. “I wanted to talk to you-“

"Did Gabby know?" he asks.

"Not as much as she did," Gabby says. "I only found out you were in the hospital like... an hour ago."

"You knew? You both knew? And you didn't tell me???"

"Now, now." The doctor says. "Your father asked us not to tell you outright- to save some emotional turmoil. This is hardly your sister's fault."

"I can't go with him," Daken says, shaking his head. "And they know why!"

"Daken, I won't have you pulling innocent people into your tantrum," I say

“Tell him.” He snarls at me. “Tell him why I can’t go.”

“Look-“

“Tell him!” he yells.

“It’s what’s best right now,” I say. "I'm sorry. That's just the way it's got to be."

He looks so betrayed.

“Gabby- Gabby,” he says. “Tell him. Please. Tell him I can’t go with Logan.”

“Don’t put her in that position, Daken,” I say. “You know it’s out of her hands.”

“Please- Please- one of you- tell him.” He begs. “Please- tell him. Make him listen. I’ll go anywhere. Anywhere. But not with him.”

I bite my lower lip. “Daken-“

“This is very upsetting for you.” The doctor says. “And I understand that. But your father is the best option for you. We’ve reviewed everything. We know about your past. We know about your issues. We’ll have the two of you in counseling- together. And he’s willing to take care of you, Daken. Do you know how lucky you are- in your position- to have a parent willing to care for you?”

“I can’t go with him,” Daken says. “Please,” he pleads. “Please find something else.”

The doctor leans forward. “There is nothing else.” He says gently. “Now, let’s go over your discharge paperwork.” ‘

“Laura-“ he begs. “Laura- please- tell him.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I say. "I'm sorry Daken."

This is very painful for me.

“Tell him how awful Logan is.” He pleads. "Please- someone.. someone- please."

“That’s not true- Daken,” I say gently. “He’s not awful.”

“He is to me!” Daken exclaims. “Please- tell him. Tell him. I can’t go with him. Please. Tell him.”

“You can repeat it all you want.” The doctor says. “She’s not going to say what you want her to. And it’s like she said- you shouldn’t put her or Gabby in that position.”

"I'll go with them," he says quickly. "Can I do that? they're family too."

"Your best option, in my opinion as a doctor, is to go with your father. So you are going with your father. If we have to tie you down in his car- we will. You are going with your father. It is the best place for you."

How can this be going so cruelly? Surely there was another way to tell him this.

“I want a second opinion.” He says. “Take me to someone else.”

The doctor crosses his arm, “With the outcome of your latest test-“

“I’ll take it again,” Daken says quickly.

“That’s not-“

“Let me take it again.” He demands.

The doctor shakes his head. “You’re only delaying the inevitable.” He says.

“Let me take the test again,” Daken begs. “The results are off. They’re skewed. They’re biased. You’ve already talked to him. You’ve made this decision before you even tested me. I want another doctor, another test, and another result.”

“We will give you another test.” The doctor agrees. “Two days from now. But the result will be the same. We've tested you three times now.”

“So... I can stay?” He asks.

“No.” The doctor says. “We’ll send you home with your father, and he’ll bring you to a private doctor to run the test.”

“No-“

“You did ask for another test- did you not?”

“Well yes-“

“And you asked for another doctor?” The doctor presses.

“You’re not list-“

“So I granted both of your requests.” The doctor smiles. “Two days from now, I’ll set it up, your father will take you to a private doctor who will administer the test and we will see where we can go from there.” He claps his hands together. “Now, about your discharge-“

“Laura- please.” Daken cuts him off. “Please- don’t let him take me.”

I’m so torn.

How can they blatantly ignore his wishes?

“I can come with you.” He says. “I won’t do anything stupid- I promise.”

“Your sisters cannot care for you right now.” The doctor says. “Your father? He can. We’re going to let him.”

Daken looks down. “How could you do this to me?” He asks me.

“Daken- I didn’t-“

“Why would you let them do this to me? Why did you talk to him? I asked you not to talk to him!”

“That’s enough.” The doctor says. “We need to get you ready to go.” he turns to me and Gabby. “Ladies- please leave your brother to our care. We’ll get him calmed down and ready to go. You can see him when he’s settled in- okay?”

“You can’t send them away!” He snarls.

“That’s enough.” The doctor repeats. “Laura, Gabby,” he says to us, “Please leave. I promise your brother will be fine.”

“Don’t go.” He begs. “Please.”

“Go on.” The doctor says. “He’s not in his right mind.”

Gabby looks at me helplessly.

“Go on.” The doctor repeats.

“Don’t go,” Daken says again. “Please- Laura- don’t go.”

I look down. “We’ll see you later today once you’re settled in.” I have to make that call. It’s obvious this is going nowhere and our presence is just upsetting him more.

“No-“ he sounds heartbroken.

Gabby stares up at me. “We’re leaving?” She asks.

I nod. “We’ll see him later today, I promise,” I tell her.

She looks back to the bed. “I’m sorry, Daken.” She says. “If I was a grownup- I’d totally take you.”

Daken looks more distraught than I’ve ever seen him look.

“Let’s go.” I take Gabby by the shoulder. “We love you,” I tell our brother. “And we’ll make sure Logan doesn’t hurt you.”

“Don’t go.” He repeats. “Please- please don’t go.”

I have to turn my back on him. Every step kills me. I can hear him still pleading with me as I close the door to his room.

Gabby stops in the hallway- wiping her eyes.

“Gabby- it’s okay,” I tell her, hugging her a little.

“He’s never been like that before.” She says, wiping a tear.

“He’ll be okay,” I tell her. “Logan is going to take great care of him.”

She nods. “And we’ll still see him- right?”

“Right,” I say. “I promise we’ll still see him.”

“Okay.” She wipes a final tear.

I put a hand on he shoulder and walk with her to the exit, where Logan is still standing.

“I hope you’re happy,” I say to him, not looking him in the eyes.

“Laura-“

“No really,” I say. “I hope you’re happy. You could have done this a million different ways. You chose the one that would hurt him the most.”

Logan looks down. “I know it looks like that right now-“

“I need to take Gabby home,” I say. “This upset her more than you can imagine.”

“I’m sorry girls,” Logan says. “But this is what’s best. You’ll understand in a bit when he gets worse, okay?”

“He’s going to get worse???” Gabby gasps.

Both Logan and I look at her.

“Take her home,” Logan says gently. “I’ll call you when he gets settled in.”

I don’t want to leave my brother in his condition. I don’t want to leave him with my father not knowing what will happen.

But when Gabby starts to tear up again- I know what I have to do.

“Call me as soon as he’s settled,” I tell Logan.

“I will.” He says.

“Promise me,” I say. “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”

“I promise.”

“On his mother’s grave,” I say.

“What?”

“Swear it on his mother’s grave. You told me you owed it to her to take care of him. Swear that you will on her grave.”

“I swear.” He says.

I nod. “Come on Gabby,” I say.

She looks behind us.

“Please take care of him.” She tells Logan.

“I promise Gabby. He will be taken care of.”

I lead my sister out without another word.

Today’s been upsetting enough. She doesn’t need a big argument with our father to happen in front of her.

I don’t know what to make of this whole exchange. Nothing in my experience has prepared me to deal with this. I don’t think anyone could properly deal with this.

I lead us to the car and open the door for Gabby, watching her slide in and buckle her seat belt.

I take the driver's seat, staring out the windshield for a long moment.

“Jonathan’s at home,” Gabby says into the quiet.

“Yes,” I say.

“We should probably go there to check on him.” She says, her voice lacking its usual cheerfulness.

“We should.” I agree, starting the car.

As we’re driving, Gabby reaches over to the wheel and holds my hand. “He’s gonna be okay.” She says. “I know it.”

I have to smile in spite of myself. “I hope so,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road.

“I know so,” Gabby says, letting go of my hand.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this whole situation, but I’m sure it will get better the more we work on it.

And that’s all we can hope for right now.


	7. Drugs, van, cat, drugs, cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this involves drugging of an involuntary kind and someone being forced into a van. Also hallucinations- major ones. 
> 
> ALSO, it's kinda sad. I won't say really sad- but it's pretty sad. 
> 
> Suicidal ideation barely mentioned- glossed over really. It's like for... three paragraphs maybe? And those are dialogue paragraphs so... not full ones. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Like always, if you see something that wasn't tagged please let me know.  
> Again thanks for reading! If you'd like, leave me a comment or a kudos or what have you. They really encourage to keep going!

“A little bit of that in his IV, please nurse.” The doctor- my arch nemesis at this point- says to the nurse- a villain for sure, but not arch nemesis bad.

“Alright wild child.” The nurse smiles, taking an unknown liquid and injecting it into my IV at a small attachment that lays at my elbow. "Let's take it nice and easy."

Nice and easy my ass.

They're stalling. I know he's here. I KNOW he's here. He has to be.

They won't let me see him until my brain is sufficiently mush.

How am I supposed to talk to him rationally if they've drugged me into oblivion?

I need answers before this drug sets in fully.

I know from their past injections that I can fight this one off. I recognized the liquid in the syringe as the one they use to 'calm' me before they wash me.

It's just a higher dose. If I can fight off the lower dose there's no logical reason why I can't power through the higher one. It's just going to take some effort.

And I have plenty of fight left in me to stop this. I HAVE to stop this. There is no other option. If they won't listen to reason- then they will listen to force.

“Where is he?” I ask coldly.

The ignore me. That's nothing new, though.

I've been ignored since the girls left.

I can't wrap my mind around that particular betrayal.

I asked Laura not to say anything. How could she?

How could she let him do this to me? How could they stay silent and not take my side?

“Little more if you would.” The doctor says to the nurse.

“Where is he goddamnit???"

“I heard you the first time.” The doctor says, “And I will answer shortly. Right now, I need to focus.” He turns back to the nurse. “Up it up to 75.” He says to the nurse.

More liquid is passed into my veins. It’s cold. I wish it would be the poison of the killing kind. But no- it’s poison of the mentally killing variety. It kills your thoughts, your logic, your function. Making you malleable to the wills of those who seek to control you.

AKA- they’re handing me over to my father drugged, weakened, and unable to defend myself in the slightest of fashions.

“Stop,” I order. “I don’t want that. I want you to answer my questions. Drugging me is not something I asked for."

“Shush.” The nurse says. “It’s too late now.”

“I told you I didn’t want it as soon as you walked in the room!” I yell.

The doctor sighs. “Up to 100, please,” he says.

“Do not up it!” I groan.

"You're still too agitated." The doctor says. "So yes, it will be upped."

"Stop drugging me!" I snarl. "It's not fair!"

"It's not fair in your mind, and I understand that." the doctor says. "But you have been fighting us relentlessly for three hours now."

"Then let me go!"

"No." The doctor says. "The dice have been rolled. It's time to let the chips fall where they may."

"What???"

"In other words, this is a done deal. There's not even a point in fighting anymore. You're just doing it to be difficult."

"Oh fuck you." I snarl.

"That's a lovely word." He smirks.

I want to continue berating him- but I don't have the will. This drug is coiling through my mind like a python- strangling rational thoughts before they can fully be formed.

“Daken, you’re going to feel a little sluggish- okay?” The doctor says. “That’s completely normal. You’re taking to the meds just fine.” He smiles. “To answer your question- the ‘he’ I presume you’re talking about is your father. He’s outside. I told him to wait.”

“Bring him in,” I demand.

“Hmm... not yet.” He turns back to the nurse. “125, please.”

More liquid. God. My head is so fuzzy.

“Bring him in here,” I demand. "Now."

“Almost.” the doctor says. “Why don’t we just relax... hmm? All of us. We’re just going to relax...and let our heartbeats slow.... and let our minds drift... and... feel nice and peaceful.” He’s smiling. I barely see him through drug-induced exhaustion. “125 is the ticket.” The doctor says. “Write that down, please.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask weakly.

“Oh honey,” The nurse pats my shoulder. “This is for your own good. You’ll understand later.”

“No- I- I-“

“Shush now.” She says. “Nice and quiet.”

“Ple-“

“That drug hits like a truck.” She says sweetly. “Just relax. Let it do its job.”

This doesn't feel like the usual drug. Maybe I mistook it for something else??

I wasn't paying close enough attention. When they're drugging me it's like they're performing sleight of hand magic tricks. It's over here, it's over there, there's a distraction or two- and BAM the drugs in your system. Did you see what they did? No? Good. That's how they like it.

Sometimes I think they purposefully rile me up so they can distract me easier.

That could just be my 'delusional' brain talking- but I'm pretty sure they've tried that at least once. Especially with this particular nurse in charge.

There’s silence. Sweet sweet silence.

“Listen to me-“ I slur. “Lis-“

“Shh now.” the nurse says. “It’s alright dear. It’s all okay.” She pats my shoulder again. “I think he’s ready, doctor.”

“Let’s give him the room and let that sink in a little more.” The doctor says. “We’ll back in a few minutes, Daken.”

Fuck.

“Did you hear me?” He asks.

I nod.

“Good.” He turns to the nurse. “I can already see that it’s working better than expected.”

They exit the room, leaving me cold and unheard.

I’m trying to recite to myself everything I need to say to Logan.

I need to make a valid, strong, and well thought out argument to get him to release me.

That or say something really vile.

I can’t wrap my head around what to say in either of those situations, though.

It’s like my brains been... zapped.

Brain snatching. Wasn’t that a trend in movies in the fifties? Maybe the sixties? Earlier perhaps?

No, wait- that’s body snatching. Fuck.

Aliens take your brains- that’s it! Aliens.

Dissect them. Take out your organs.

Take out your-

“ _Those are all lovely thoughts_.” The man in the shadows says, walking over to the foot of my bed. “ _But let’s focus on something else- shall we?_ ”

“What do you want??” I groan.

“ _Your cooperation_.” He says. “ _You failed. Again. The bridge wasn’t high enough._ ”

“What do you want from me?” I grouse. “Fifty stories wasn’t high enough- the bridge wasn’t high enough- how high do I need to go??”

“ _As high as it takes._ ” He says, wrapping his shadowy hands around my foot. His touch is cold and clammy. “ _You’re a menace to society, you know._ ”

I nod my head. “I know.”

“ _And you really don’t deserve to be here_.”

“I know.” I agree.

“ _And I send you the cat to help you- yet you ignore it._ ”

“I followed the cat!” I argue.

He shakes his head. “ _Child- tell me- were you following the cat when you let the police take you?_ ”

“I was trying to,” I say weakly.

“ _Try harder.”_ He says flatly.

“Will, you at least tell me what you want?” I ask.

“ _Your life will suffice_.” He says.

“I’ve tried-“ I actually feel mildly upset. “I’m trying so hard.”

“ _Try harder._ ” He says. “ _When you complete your task- you’re free._ ”

“I want to be free,” I say sluggishly.

“ _Then complete your task,_ ” he says, vanishing into thin air.

“Wait!” I call.

He doesn’t return.

“Come back! I need to ask you-“ There’s no response. “Fuck I need to ask you something,” I say into the room. I feel like I could scream.

I stop the noise by biting my tongue and gluing my mouth shut.

The feeling doesn’t last for long, in about three minutes my mind is mush.

“How are we feeling?” The doctor asks, coming back in.

I try to answer but nothing comes out.

“Yes, that is, unfortunately, a side effect of sedation.” he chuckles. Someone touches my face.

“I wrote down the teeth that need to be looked over.” The nurse says. "As well as a dietary recommendation for before he gets them fixed. Most foods are a little too much to chew here lately."

The doctor laughs again. “It’s so handy that you used to be a dental assistant.”

“What can I say? I’m a jack of all trades.” The woman chuckles. Someone pries my mouth open. “Lots of work to be done.” She says. "he really did a number on them."

“I agree.” The man says. “Now, his father asked us to make sure he was fed before they got on the road. He doesn’t want to put him under the duress of a feeding as soon as he gets home.”

That’s not my home.

That will never be my home.

I’d rather be homeless- shitting in the woods like an animal. I’d rather be living under a bridge than living with him.

“SO.. we insert this little tube right here....” I barely feel whatever it is he’s doing. “And we attach it to this little bottle....” Something starts running down my throat. I don’t even have the strength to stop it. “Thank you for being so cooperative.” The doctor says. “We’ll get you fed, and dressed, and then we’ll bring your father in here- okay?”

I can’t speak, I can’t nod, I can’t protest.

So I let them manhandle me- not putting up much of a fight.

“Your dad brought you some clothes.” The doctor says. “Shorts, briefs, shirt- things like that. No shoes though,” he says. “Everyone keeps forgetting about your poor feet.”

The nurse laughs. “We’ll wheel him out to the car.” She says. “Don’t want him walking in that parking lot.”

“Doubt he could walk at all in this state.” The doctor says, pulling something over my head. “There we go,” he says. “Fed, clothed and drugged. We’ll go over your paperwork with your father.” He pauses. “Nurse, Bring him in. I think we’re ready.”

No, we’re not.

We’re really not.

“Right this way.” The nurse says.

Her statement is followed by dense silence.

My father enters- wearing his stupid costume. The mix of yellows and blues makes me sick to my stomach. I can't figure out why. For all intents and purposes, blues and yellows go well together. 

I can't keep thinking along that train of thought. My eyes are closing against my will. 

I'm not even sure that he saw me looking in the first place. 

I can smell him- his scent. He's calm. I know he can smell me too- and me? I am not calm. 

The drugs may have slowed me down- but they did not take away this burning hate I have for him. 

“Containment features on his claws.” The doctor starts. “Mutant suppressors for his pheromones- which I thank you again for telling us about.” He follows it up with, “And we have a bit so he won’t hurt his teeth any more than they are.”

“A bit?” I recognize my father’s voice. It makes me seethe with anger.

“We’re expecting him to put up a hell of a fight.” The doctor says. “The bits so he doesn’t damage any more of those teeth if he decides to bite.”

Logan makes a noise of affirmation.

“Now, dad,” The nurse says, “He eats three times a day- 6 am, 12 pm, and 7 pm. Usually, some kind of fruit if he’s feeding himself. Meats and other such things are a little hard to chew right now. Medication is given every... four hours.” She sounds like she’s thinking about it. “We drug him at night- to keep him sleeping and in bed. He needs to be in bed by 9:30 at the latest- okay?”

“Got it,” Logan says.

“Here’s the list of medications- we’ve already filled them- they’re in his bag. And here is a list of his symptoms- add-on if more arise.”

“Got it,” Logan repeats.

“Other than that,” The doctor says, “Take him to the doctor, get him in to see the dentist, and watch for the cat.”

The... cat?

Where is the cat?

“Because he will follow it.” The doctor says. “Anywhere.”

“Watch for the cat, got it,” Logan says.

“I’ll go fetch a wheelchair.” The nurse says.

“I also suspect, from listening at the door, that we’ve had a visit from the shadow figure.” The doctor says as the nurse leaves. “That leaves him feeling a little... depressed. The drugs are suppressing most of it but maybe... keep in mind that he’s not feeling well tonight. No matter what he does- remember, he is not well.”

“I’m not gonna be hard on him, I promise,” Logan says.

“Very good.” The doctor says. “I have a counseling session set up for the two of you next week on Friday. I’ll call with the time.”

“Sounds good,” Logan says.

“You said-“ I try. “You said- I could take another-“ My voice trails off.

“Another??” The doctor prompts.

“Test,” I remember suddenly. “Another test. Two days.”

“We have more than enough information to go off of right now.” The doctor smiles. “Now, the lovely nurse Dorris is going to bring in a wheelchair and we’ll get you out to the car.”

“We uh... I mean.. I brought help.” Logan says.

“Oh?” The doctor says.

“Some friends. They’ll be helping me watch him.”

“That’s wonderful.” The doctor says cheerfully. “You’ll brief them on all that’s in this little packet- then.” He says. “it’s in his bag.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“No.” I manage. “No- not going.”

“You’ve got some of that liquid shit on your face,” Logan says. “Let me-“

“Don’t touch me!” I snarl. It comes out weak.

“Daken...” he says. “Let’s not do this straight off the bat- okay? Let me help you.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking... fuck.” My head rolls forward. “Child!” I fight through it.

“You are my child.” He says. “Lemme call in my backup, we’ll get you to the car.”

I shake my head but am unable to keep my eyes open.

“Kurt and Ororo are going to help me get you to the car.” He says. “Very good friends of mine. They won’t hurt you.”

“No,” I say weakly. “No-“

“Yes,” Logan says. “It’s for your own good.”

Fuck. A lot of people are saying that recently.

The door opens up and there’s talking- I don’t care to hear any more.

My father leans near me- I can smell his scent- and pulls me up into a seated position, wrapping his arm under my arm and pulling me to my feet. I try to go dead weight on him- but that doesn’t work.

“That’s it,” Logan says. “‘Ro, grab his stuff, please.”

“Of course.” The woman moves closer to us. I smell rain and sunshine at the same time. My nose must be off. Would make sense- everything else is.

“Elf- take us to the car?” Logan asks.

To that, the man doesn’t respond, though a feel an oddly shaped appendage brushing my arm. “Deep breath,” Logan says. “And if ya gotta puke- do it before we get you in the car, okay?”

“Pu-“

My senses go completely out for one second. A brief moment in time and I nowhere and everywhere. Then I’m back to normal- outside in the sunshine. My mind can’t track what happened. He was right though- I do feel queasy.

“Much easier than I thought it’d be,” Logan says, pushing me forward. I try to drag my feet on the asphalt.

“He’s putting up a good fight.” ‘Elf’ says. “I do not think they’ve sedated him enough to be road ready.”

“Didn’t think they would.” Logan chuckles. He opens the door to a black van- it’s one of the doors that slide on a track on the side of the side of the van. “That’s why we brought this.” The inside of the van is hollowed out- leaving a large black space that’s padded- no seats, but cushions- and is sealed off from the front of the car- separated by a large metal grid. “He’ll be comfy and we’ll be safe,” Logan says. “See? Thought of everything.” He's smiling. "There's room up front of us- but one of us can ride back here with him if he gets too upset."

He pushes me again- and I push back as much as I can. But against my wishes- we are moving.

“Come on kid.” Logan grunts. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be- okay? You’re not winning this. Take the loss.”

I shake my head violently. "No," I say. "No- no- I won't go with you."

“You’re gonna take it whether you want to or not,” Logan says gently. “I’m trying to offer you the chance to take it with a little dignity.”

My head lolls forward again. "Stop." I plead. "I can't- I can't-" I can't think straight. "Please- no."

"It's okay," Ororo says sweetly. "You're fine. It's really comfortable back there- I've slept in it before on a mission or two." That charming smile on an equally beautiful face- a lovely woman Ororo is. Dark skin and shining white hair- beautiful. Her tone makes me more prone to believe her than I am to believe Logan. Maybe that's why he brought her?

"I don't want to go in the van," I say clearly, gaining back some of my mental function. It's a hard fight to win.

"Well, you're going in the van," Logan says, giving me a little nudge. “You’re tired.” He says. “Just lay down. It’s not hard. If it makes you feel better, you can say you fought me all the way to the car- okay?”

“Fu-ck.” I groan.

Logan gently moves me that last four steps, pushing me down very carefully into the plush set up.

“We’re up front,” he says. “Let me know if you need anything.” I try to stop the van door from closing with my hand, making Logan sigh. “Sedated up to your ears and you’re STILL fighting me.”

“There’s something to be admired about that,” Kurt says.

“It definitely says that he’s your son.” Ororo chuckles.

Logan picks up my hand and pushes it back to my side. “Hands in.” He says.

I catch the door from closing again- flinging it back as hard as possible.

“Kid,” Logan says. “We’re not doing this already. You’ve got a long time to fight me. You don’t have to start right this minute.”

"I'm not going with you," I say as firmly as possible for me to right now. "You will let me go and we will never speak of this again."

"Those sedatives really wore off fast," Kurt says.

"No, they didn't." Logan laughs. "Kids just fighting his ass off to not be affected." he bends down, closer to me. "You will put your hand back in the van," he orders.

"No!" I say stubbornly, pushing the metal as hard as I can. When that doesn't work- I just put my arm in the way of the track. "If you want to close the door- You'll have to take my arm off."

Logan sighs. "I'm not taking your arm off."

"Then the doors not closing!"

"Daken," Logan says gently, "You want to tell me why you're fighting this so hard? You were living on the streets. You weren't eating regularly, your mind was failing you, you were jumping off of things- can you honestly say that this isn't a better option?"

"Going with you is the worst option!" I yell.

"Get your arm back in the van." Logan orders.

"No!"

"Do you want me to sit in the back with you and hold you so you can't obstruct the door?" He asks.

"You don't have the balls."

I'm still so tired. But fighting with him- getting to confront him head-on- is giving me a will to continue.

"I do have the balls." He says. "Now move your arm."

I put my other one in the way too.

"Daken- pull your arms back in the van." He groans.

"Oh am I interrupting your kidnapping attempt?" I say snarkily. "Am I causing you inconvenience in abducting me?? I guess I'm not good at playing the helpless, brain-dead, easily run over, mental patient- am I??"

"You got a lot of fight in you." He says. "And honestly? That's a good thing- okay? Son, it's good that you have a will to fight. No one is doubting that. However, you need to focus on fighting your illness- not the people who are trying to help you with it. We're on the same side, boy."

"We are NEVER on the same side." I growl. "we have never been and we never will be."

"Agree to disagree." he snorts. "Get your arms inside the van."

"You can't do this to me," I say. "If you care about even one iota you will let me go."

Logan bends over and pats my back. "I love you more than you can wrap your head around." He says. "That's WHY I'm doing this. Do you know how much easier it would have been to just let them put you somewhere to rot for the rest of your life?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"But I didn't want that," he says gently. "I wanted you safe. With your family." He pauses. "Is that so bad, huh? Living with us? Seeing the girls regularly?"

The... girls?

I... "I do want to see them," I admit.

"I know you do," Logan says. "You're a good big brother. You want to be in their lives."

There's a pause.

"Get your arms back in the van." He says. "I know how hard this is on you. You're very prideful, independent, self-sufficient. But you need the help right now." He says. "Accept the help."

I shake my head.

"Do it for the girls," Logan says. "They're worried. You don't want to worry them anymore- do you?"

I shake my head again.

"I know you don't." He says. "So do this for them. Maybe things will get better- maybe they'll get worse. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it- okay?"

I'm fighting a losing battle. But... I do want to make sure the girls don't worry.

It says something about them that I can't stay angry. I'm hurt- but I'm not pissed. That's a new feeling for me. Usually hurt and pissed go hand in hand. It's odd to have one without the other.

"Do it for the girls." He repeats. "You didn't get to see how upset Gabby was today."

"Gabby was upset?"

I have a weak spot for Gabby.

"Gabby was very upset," Logan says. "Put your arm back in the car. The faster we get you home and settled the faster the girls can come to see you're okay. Alright? Just put your arms back in the car."

I don't know what to do.

I've never been more torn in my life. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see something move inside the van.

The cat... why would it be... in here?

Do... Do I need to follow it?

I keep my hand in the door to see if it will jump out- it stays, curling up in a ball towards the back of the van.

If the cat stays... then should I? The man in the shadows said he sent the cat... is he trying to tell me something after all?

Against my better instincts- I let go of the door.

“Thank you,” Logan says. "Really son. Thank you."

He thinks I did it for him. Weakling.

I curl onto my side to try and ease the feeling in my stomach. I don’t recognize it well. I think... nerves? Has Logan actually found something I’m fearful of?

Fuck. And it’s him.

He’s found my greatest fear... and it’s fucking him.

And now I’m stuck in a car with him. How do I know he won’t just lock me in here and push me into a river? A lake? Wreck the car on purpose leaving me in a fiery ball of smoking metal?

The door closes, locking me into my fate.

“I hope you’re right about this.” I slur to the cat.

It blinks its eyes at me and then fades.

“No! Wait!” I fight myself over to where it was. “Come back you stupid thing.” I groan. “Why did you make me stay?? What do you want?? What do you want me to do???? Neither of you will tell me what you want!! What am I supposed to do???“ I don't care that I'm screaming. The cat needs to hear me. The shadow man needs to hear me. One of them needs to show back up and tell me where to go from here.

From what I've seen of Logan's school- there are no high up places to jump from.

"Come back!" I yell at the empty spot.

There's a noise behind me- but I don't track it.

"Please come back..." I beg. "What am I supposed to do??? Where am I supposed to go?? Where-"

Someone coughs behind me. “You okay?”

I turn around and see the door open again with my father standing there.

I know I look crazy.

I nod, not knowing what to say.

“Whatcha talkin’ to?” He asks.

I feel a swirl of emotions I don’t think I’ve felt up until this point in my life.

“The... cat,” I say. “He’s.. gone. He was here... and he’s gone.”

Logan nods. “Kurt, drive- will ya? I’ll stick back here with Daken.”

Keys are passed and he climbs into the back with me, all while I’m trying to will the cat back into existence.

“Did the cat tell you anything?” Logan asks as they close the doors.

I pull myself into a seated position and stare at the ceiling (Roof?) “Cat’s don’t talk.” I repeat for the millionth time.

“But you what... you follow him, right? You follow the cat?”

I stare at the ceiling. It’s fuzzy. Why is the ceiling fuzzy? Who’s going to be feeling the fucking ceiling? There are no seats. To touch the roof you’d have to be standing up. "He's supposed to tell me what to do," I say weakly. "And he's gone... and I don't know what to do."

"And that makes you.. upset?" Logan pries.

I nod. "I don't know what to do," I repeat, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me.

“Daken... are you okay?” He asks, almost gently.

“I’m fine,” I say, though my voice does this weird almost weak sounding thing.

“Upset about the cat?” Logan presses.

I find myself nodding.

“Would help if I told you that there was no cat when we put you in here?”

I shake my head.

Logan moves over and pushes on my shoulders- making me lay on the padding. “Lay back.” He says.

My hand ends up where the cat was. There’s no warmth there. It just... was never there. It never existed. So... why am I so upset that it’s gone?

I run my fingers over the spot it was sitting in. Maybe...I can make it come back?

The van starts to move.

“Wait!” I call.

“Keep going.” Logan overrides me and we keep moving.

“You cannot take me home with you,” I say as sincerely as I can through the drugs.

“Son-“

“Please,” I beg. “Please- I have to stay. There’s something I need to do.”

Logan watches me carefully. “Because... you saw the cat. Right?”

I nod. It sounds childish though- but I am convinced.

Logan taps on the mesh screen. “Stop for a second- will ya?” He asks.

The van stops moving.

For a second I think he’s actually going to do right by me.

“Open the door.” He says.

It takes a moment but the van door slides open.

"You're letting me go?" I ask hopefully.

Logan looks at me for a long moment before shaking his head. "No."

"Then you're going to help me find the cat?" I ask.

“Can you give me his bag?” Logan asks, ignoring me.

“My... why do you need my bag?” I ask. "The cats not in my bag."

He looks at me with knowing eyes as Ororo gets out of the front of the van and passes him my blue duffle bag.

“Logan... why do you need my bag?” I ask again.

“Close the door.” He says to Ororo, very quietly.

“No- no- what are you doing?” I ask. “I need to get out! What are you doing?” He starts going through the bag.

“I know this is hard on you.” He says gently, not looking at me. “And I know- I know I really do- that you don’t understand. That you can’t understand.” He says, pulling out a syringe.

“What is that?” I demand.

“You don’t understand because your brains been... scrambled.” He says, flushing the syringe.

I try back away. “No- no- I need to get out.”

“You need to be taken care of.” He says. “I had my doubts but that fucking thing with the cat.... this is the best option for you.”

“I need out,” I say, banging on the side of the van. “Let me out!!!”

“Son.... please... don’t make this any harder,” Logan says.

“I need out,” I repeat, feeling that unknown feeling again. “Please- let me go.”

Logan moves over to me. I’m still on my side, he holds me in place by grabbing onto my neck- not painfully, but firm enough to hold me in place. “What are you doing??” I demand.

I feel the needle against my skin.

“This is going to put you to sleep,” Logan says. “All the way to sleep. It’s the highest dose possible. They said to give it to you if you started to get worse off.”

“Logan... no.” I shake my head- trying to shake my him. “No- you can’t. I need out of-“ The needle digs into the back of my neck. “OUT OF HERE!” I cry. “No! You can’t-“ The drug is fast acting. “You can’t-“ I say weakly.

Logan lets me go and rolls me onto my back. “It’s okay.” He shushes. “It’s okay, Daken. It’s all okay.”

I can feel something on my face.

“This is very real to you,” Logan says. “I understand. Don’t think I don’t understand.”

I realize that the unknown substance on my face is tears. That unknown feeling is an upset the likes of which I have not felt before. I feel betrayed, I feel cornered, I feel sad, I feel lost, I... I feel scared. This scares me.

“It’s okay,” he repeats as my vision starts to darken. “I’m gonna take great care of you. I promise.”

Everything goes black- the second before it does- I see a pair of green eyes.

It’s too much to bear.

I let this wave of exhaustion crash over me.

Then- there’s nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ran this through my Grammarly app like... twice. So if there's anything it missed, lemme know. Having an automated editor is wonderful- but sometimes it gets a little confused as to what I'm trying to say! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Up next- a school, a room, and an argument.


	8. Waking, fighting, showering, and freezing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the start of some father and son bonding.  
> A good ‘kidnapping’ is always the ticket into your estranged son’s heart, after all.  
> No real warnings. Just usual mental stuff.  
> Enjoy! Leave me a comment or a kudos to let me know what you think! ( if you’re so obliged.)  
> If you see anything that was tagged incorrectly or not mentioned up here, please let me know so I can fix it.  
> Thank you so much for reading!

 I don’t like what I had to do.  
  
To be honest- I don’t like any of this. What parent would? My child is suffering and in his eyes- I'm adding to it. He won't see that I did what I had to do to keep him safe. I know he won't. He can't. With all that shit going on in his head... I know he won't be able to accept the fact that someone is trying to help…. especially if that someone is me.  
  
The look he gave me- the fear and betrayal in his eyes... I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.  
  
But... he was screaming. He was screaming at something that wasn’t there. The boy was completely and utterly devastated that the stupid thing had left him. He said it told him what to do and without it, he didn’t know. It was scary as fuck. Back in my day they would have claimed that the boy was possessed. Okay.. well some of them would have- depending on what part of the world he was in. Coulda ended up like my momma in some kind of asylum. Did ‘wonders’ for her. 

 

I didn’t even make it to the front of the van. I could hear him with the door closed- we all could. Several bystanders were staring at me like I was kidnapping the kid. Pretty sure if we would have stuck around longer and not a man who looked like a demon with us- someone would have called the cops. He put up that much of a fuss and was  _ that _ loud. 

 

This cat... this damn cat. What am I gonna do about it? It's not real- it’s not an astral projection, they’re aren’t telepaths fucking with his head to make him see it- it’s literally not real. There are no traces of it, no one else can see it- it doesn’t exist. But for him- it does. It’s real. It’s there. He can interact with it, he can talk to it, it responds to him- it’s there.  And it tells him what to do. He doesn't need some figment of his imagination telling him what to do. God forbid he listen to any of us- but the cat? This no legged shadow-cat- oh yea. He’ll follow it to the ends of the earth. Even with fifty million people telling him it’s not a good idea- that the cat is not a good or helpful thing- he follows it. Every single fucking time. It’s like his brain short circuits and he doesn’t see reason. He gets frustrated when we don’t understand what he’s talking about- when we ask the wrong questions, but the fuck are the right questions in a situation like that? Do I need to sit him down and ask him what I need to ask him when he’s like that?    
  
I didn’t want to sedate him like that. Really- I didn’t. I could see the betrayal on his face. He didn’t deserve that. And I know he won’t forgive me. How could he? He asked for my help and again- I ‘betrayed’ him. Sedating him like that? Up there in the top ten hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. A bit lower than having to kill him. To look at someone and see them looking at you like he looked at me... it’s heartbreaking.   
  
But I couldn’t just leave him back there to hurt himself. I had to do something.   
  
I don’t like how it turned out- but I had to do something.   
  
The doctor was very clear about that. He said hard choices would have to be made and that Daken wouldn’t like those choices. I had to make executive decisions. Make sure he doesn’t get hurt. Take care of him even it means going against what he wants. And at this point- it is definitely against what he wants. The doctor said he didn't know what he wanted- though. Which is probably why this ghost cat shows up and tells him what to do. The boy needs direction. It's a failing, fleeting, dream of mine that he'll get better and join the team. Fighting side by side with his sisters and I. That team would be fucking unstoppable. But... it's probably not gonna happen. The boy's sick. He's apparently gonna get worse. I can't expect him to be able to focus long enough to stop bad guys and save the world.   
  
It's just not going to happen for him. The time for that has passed. And I let it go. I didn't reach out to him. I didn't try to reach him. Now when he needs me- he's too untrusting to ask for help.   
  
I’m not stupid. I know how much the boy doesn’t want to do this. I knew it when I saw the judge the other day. But reading those reports- seeing him for myself... Something had to be done. Fast. Unbeknownst to Daken- they recorded one of his episodes. Because I was allowed access to his medical records- I got a copy of it. Played it for the judge. Took him the doctors notes. He signed Daken over to me in a little under an hour- going against all rules and regulations. Just because 1) I’m an x-man and avenger, and 2) Daken is a dangerous mutant. The best place for a dangerous mutant is among other powerful mutants who can contain them.   
  
And I got a feeling that the boy’s gonna take a lot of ‘containment’.   
  
I reach over and check to see if he’s still sleeping, placing my hand on his back. He ended up curled on his side. Definitely looks the part of defeated and ill.   
  
His heartbeat is slow and steady and I can hear his breathing. Steady. The drugs didn't hurt him. I made sure of it when I got them. I don't even know why I'm worried about it now.   
  
He's out like a light.   
  
I'm glad he's getting some sleep- even if did have to sedate him against his wishes to get him to this point.   
  
Looking at him like this... I think of his momma. He’s got her features- and right now, when they’re not curled into disgust and malice- I see her. And I know what she would want me to do.   
  
I owe her this.   
  
More than that- I owe him this.   
  
This is the only way to do right by him... even if it makes him miserable in the process.   
  
It’s a tough call- handling him like he needs to be handled. But.... we’ll get around it. He’ll get used to me eventually. Realize that I’m not doing this to hurt him.   
  
That’s something that always gets me in he says it, “Why are you doing this to me?” It stops me in my tracks. He’s so used to people hurting him that he can’t tell when they’re trying to help.   
  
I guess that says something about his ‘disorder’... he has poor reasoning skills.   
  
I’ll get him to see that we’re trying to help him. I’ve got a whole team of people lined up to help him. People to entertain, people to watch, people to care for him- he’s got a whole support system now. It’ll just take a while for him to realize he can use it.   
  
Which I think is gonna take a very long while now that I'm thinking about it. I'll try to introduce him to the others slowly. Ororo and Kurt are my go-tos. He'll be seeing a lot of them.   
  
He really didn't seem to take much notice of them today- though I think the teleport made him a little queasy. It does that the first few times. Don't know how Elf stands it.   
  
Ro handled herself with grace- only stepping in when needed.   
  
I'm more worried about how he's going to take to her than anyone else.   
  
Ro and I are a thing. Have been for a while.   
  
He's gonna have to accept that because we're not gonna to hide it.   
  
He's got to see that she is on his side, though.   
  
I'll be briefing everyone on how to act and react tonight when I put him to bed.   
  
They were all pretty understanding about me bringing him to the school.   
  
Telepaths on hand to contain, teleporters on hand to fetch him, and people who mean him absolutely no will ill and I know for a fact can help him recover like he needs.   
  
The boy's got a long road ahead of him.   
  
Despite what today looked like to him- I'm just trying to help make that road more manageable. As much as i can with him hellbent and determined to stop me at every turn. Maybe springing this on him wasn’t the best idea- but I have no doubt that he woulda  took off the second he realized I was getting involved. It would’ve taken a month or two to find him… and a hell of a lot of manpower. Catching him off guard is literally the only way to contain him.    
  
I brush some of the hair off his neck, checking to see where I stuck him. The needle punctures from the shot I gave him and the IV’s he’s had in him for the last week or so, are healed. You can’t even tell we drugged him. To an outsider- they’d simply think he was sleeping.   
  
I smooth his hair back down, he doesn't want it messed up- I know that for a fact.   
  
It's a little greasy. Hopefully, he'll decide to take a shower or something. I'm not going to force the issue just yet.   
  
I'm already gonna throw him off by taking him to the dentist tomorrow. I think it's best to sit on that little piece of info. Knowing him, after spending a night in the school- he'll be happy to get out. I just... won't tell him where we're going.   
  
I'll make sure he's drugged up to his ears and he really won't feel anything. The teeth will start regrowing before he even gains consciousness. They usually don't take long to fill back in.   
  
He makes a small noise in his sleep.   
  
I chuckle to myself. His momma used to do that. Sleep talk. More like sleep mumble. It was cutest when she was learning English. She'd say random words.   
  
If phones had been a thing back then- I woulda recorded her in a heartbeat.   
  
It was even worse when she was pregnant with him.   
  
The thought just makes me smile.   
  
The smile fades quickly though. It's hard to stay happy right now.   
  
I watch him sleep- feeling years worth of guilt wash over me.   
  
I wasn’t there. Any way you slice it- I wasn’t there. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know- the kid was in hell and I was off doing what I do best... and his sisters (though they had it hard) got an easier break than he did. I actually wanted to be in Laura’s life. Way before I even remembered that I had a son. Or a wife- for that matter. I ... forgot both of them. And they can tell me it’s not my fault because of what I’ve been through- but I didn’t honor them. I didn’t remember them. All I had was a vague nightmare of a beautiful woman and a wordless tragedy.   
  
My boy... he was forgotten. He was left in the hands of a monster. Snatched away.   
  
And I had the audacity to ask why he was a monster.   
  
Boy’s not a monster. He’s not a weapon. He’s just... a pawn. Something that was shaped in the bowels of a hell I can’t even imagine and then tossed away the second he was no longer of use. I have no doubt Romulus is behind what’s going on with him right now. Until Daken decides to tell us though- there’s no way to know. They’ve asked him every question in the book- the boy’s not budging. I’m sure he’ll be more forthcoming in the weeks to come. But... can I wait that long? Is there something we can do to speed the process along?   
  
Some hairs fell in his face. There’s really nothing I can do with it to help other than chop it off- and that would end in someone getting murdered. In a sense- he’s a lot like his momma when it comes to hair. Itsu had the longest I’d ever seen on anyone. Anyone. And god so help me if I suggested we do something like cut it. He doesn’t see it often, but he’s got more of her in him than he realizes.    
  
"Gotta do something with this hair," I say. "Tie it back. Something." He doesn't answer. "Don't know how you manage to keep it that way anyway. Definitely missed out on the 'hairy mother fucker' genes. That or you shave a hell of a lot." I consider it for a moment. "You look like you would shave it all off regular."   
  
Talking to him helps ease the guilt.   
  
Neither Kurt nor Ro says anything from up front. In the beginning, they were talking to me. Now I think they know I'm not in the mood for conversation.   
  
The van stops moving and we sit motionless for a moment or two. I hear the engine cut off.   
  
We must be home. The van's windows are tinted. I haven't been able to look out them anyway from my position on the floor of the van.   
  
This van has been used on several missions. The only thing I had to change was the divider in the middle.   
  
Ro opens the door after a minute or so, standing there with a knowing look on her face.   
  
“How is he?” She asks gently.   
  
“Sleeping,” I say. “More peaceful than I’ve seen him in years.”   
  
“Yes, well... sedation will do that to a person.” She smiles.   
  
"Wish I hadn't had to do it like that," I say.   
  
"You did what you had to." She says.   
  
We got quiet. Me and Ro never have 'awkward' silences. Sometimes she knows that I just don't wanna talk. She doesn't take it personally. She's known me long enough to know that when something’s bothering me, sometimes I just need space.   
  
I don't know if this is one of those times. I can't do this on my own. And Laura's pissed. I have no doubt she'll show up for him... but I doubt she'll be doing anything help me with his upkeep. She'll take his side immediately. That means Gabby will take his side. Then I've got three kids against me.   
  
“Why don’t you look happy?" she asks gently. "You got what you wanted. Your son is with you... and he’ll be safe and cared for. You jumped through every hoop and over every hurdle. You won, love. Why do you look so... defeated?”   
  
“You didn’t see his face.” I murmur. “He was terrified.”   
  
“He’ll get used to your presence, I’m sure.” She says.   
  
"It was a look of betrayal, Ro," I say. "He thought I was going to help him... and I turned around and knocked him out. I betrayed him. Again."   
  
"That's hardly a betrayal, Logan." She says. "He's just frightened. With your past being kept in mind... can you really blame him?"   
  
No. No, I can't. I did kill him. He's harboring a grudge for that- which is fair- but also a fear in the pit of his stomach that he won't acknowledge.   
  
“I don’t want to scare him. Or betray him. I just... I want him safe, ya know? I want him safe. I don’t want him to hiss and spit and cry and cringe when he sees me.”   
  
“And what would you have him do instead?” She asks.   
  
“Honestly?” I smile, but I know it comes off tired and sad.   
  
“Of course.” She says.   
  
“A smile? A laugh? A ‘hey dad thanks for taking care of me’?”   
  
“You’ll get there.” She says gently.   
  
“I was just hoping...”   
  
“That you’d be there already?” She smiles. “Logan, those things take work. And dedication. All you can do is show him that you’re here for him, you love him, and that you’re trying to keep him safe. You have to build up to everything else.”   
  
I guess she’s right. I can’t expect that shit off the bat.   
  
That doesn’t mean that we won’t have it- it just means I’ve gotta work for it to have it. I can’t expect those emotions and reactions to come freely. Not after everything Daken and I have been through together. The only thing I can do is be there for him and show him that I love him. The rest will fall into place eventually.   
  
“You’re a smart cookie, darlin’,” I say, smiling for real this time.   
  
She nods. “Which you already knew, of course.” She then smiles. “He’ll come around.”   
  
“Hopefully,” I say. “Boy was so broken-hearted.”   
  
“I’ll bet he was. But he will come around."   
  
"Maybe," I say.   
  
There's another long pause. "We should get him inside.” She says softly. “He’ll be more comfortable in his room, I’m sure.”   
  
“Yea.” I agree. “He will.”   
  
“Did you buy him new blankets?” She asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I know all of her tells. She's nervous too.   
  
I nod. “We tried to make the room look decent. I know he likes nice things.”   
  
Yet he doesn’t have any anymore. All his worldly possessions are in that bag. I tracked down his car- it’s totaled. There’s no point in even trying to fix it. Not that I’d let him drive it- anyway. I’ll gladly play taxi when he wants to go somewhere. Getting him out the house may actually be good for him.   
  
I still feel guilty. Like the slimiest bastard on the planet.   
  
“He’s gonna wake up hating me,” I say quietly, looking at his expressionless face.   
  
“He won’t hate you forever, Logan,” Ro says wisely. “He’ll see this is the best option.”   
  
“So... you think I did the right thing?”   
  
She looks at my boy. “I think you did what was right at the moment. Something had to be done.”   
  
That’s the best I’m going to get out of her.   
  
Kurt joins her at the door. “He’s still sleeping?” He asks.   
  
I nod.   
  
“Do you need a moment?” Ro asks.   
  
“Yea,” I say. “I do.”   
  
She smiles and taps Kurt on the shoulder. “We’ll be at the door.” She says.   
  
I move over closer to the boy. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I know this is hard on you.”   
  
He, of course, doesn’t respond.   
  
“You’re gonna fight,” I say. “And that’s fine. Just know... it won’t always be like this. It can get better.” I pause. “...We... can get better.”   
  
Daken’s breathing and heartbeat stay steady.   
  
“I am gonna take care of you,” I say. “I promise.”   
  
He twitches in his sleep.   
  
“I won’t abandon you. I won’t turn you away if you get worse. I won’t leave you on your own. You’ll never go without.”   
  
He doesn’t respond.   
  
“I can tell you all of this later,” I say. “Let’s get you inside.”   
  
It takes some effort, but I manage to get him to the door of the van. Boy’s not exactly light.   
  
Kurt sees me and comes back over. “To his room then?” he asks.   
  
“Yea. If you don’t mind.”   
  
He nods, placing his hands on both me and the boy.   
  
We disappear in a puff of smoke- rematerializing in the doorway of his bedroom. I took the door. He's gonna fucking love that.   
  
“Help me get him to the bed,” I say, holding on to him tightly.   
  
Kurt takes one of his arms and I take the other- holding him under his arm and supporting most of his weight. We get him to the bed, a queen- I figured he’d need the space- with black and silver comforter and sheets. It doesn’t look half bad. I let Kitty and Jubes decorate the room for him. They’re pretty good at that.   
  
I pull back the comforter and place him under it.   
  
“Did you get his clothes?” Kurt asks.   
  
“Went shopping yesterday,” I say. "Don't know if he'll actually wear any of it."   
  
If he doesn't like what I bought him he'll probably do something petty like sit around naked. Which I mean- go for it. If he wants to show his dick to the entire team- I can't stop him. Though I doubt he'd be  _ that _ petty.   
  
Who knows though? It is Daken. Sometimes I think he lives to be petty.   
  
“We can take him to buy his own things in a few days.” The blue man says, patting my shoulder. “You did the right thing, Logan.” He says. “Even if it doesn’t seem like it at the moment.”   
  
“Thanks, Elf,” I say. “I needed to hear that.”   
  
“Anytime.” he pats my shoulder again and walks off.   
  
The room we set up for Daken is a small one- the bed takes up most of the space. We had to make sure there was nothing he could hurt himself with- so it’s pretty minimalistic.   
  
We had to go through every item we put in here with a fine-toothed comb to make sure it couldn’t be disassembled to be used for him to hurt himself. It’s not left him with much.   
  
I pull over the reading chair we put in his room- big ol’ blue fucker- placing it by the bed and taking a seat, putting my mask- that’s been in my pocket- onto his nightstand and kicking off my boots. Might as well get comfortable. I’ve been wearing this getup for more than 24 hours.   
  
I text Laura, even though she’s pissed. Tell her I got him home alright and that he’s sleeping but should be awake in an hour or two.   
  
Like every other time I’ve contacted the girl here lately- the message goes unanswered.   
  
I watch my boy for more than two hours- waiting for signs of consciousness.

 

Part me is still concerned that I’ve dosed him too much. 

Granted with his healing factor- it takes a fuck ton of meds to get him down… but I still knocked him out with a pretty large dose. That’s not as concerning as what he’ll do if he wakes up in this school by himself. I’m trying to stop a potential bloodbath, here. Kid can complain about me hanging around when he wakes up. If it keeps him from going after one of my friends- he’ll just have to deal with it.    
  
Around the two hour and thirty-minute mark, he starts to mumble to himself.   
  
I get up from the blue chair and gently shake him. “Daken..” I say softly, “Wake up.”   
  
His eyes open slowly. “What happened?” He groans. “I feel like I was hit by a truck.”    
  
“Nothing,” I answer.   
  
“The cat-“   
  
“There’s no cat,” I say gently. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”   
  
“Where am I?” He asks groggily. “I don’t know this place.”   
  
“At the Jean Grey school,” I say. “It’s okay- you’re safe.”   
  
“Jean.... oh no.” He sits up quickly.   
  
“Take it easy,” I say. “Easy.”   
  
His eyes dart around the room and then settle on me. “You.” He says much more alert. “You!”   
  
“Okay- let’s take a deep breath....” I keep my hand on his shoulder, anchoring him in the bed.   
  
“You kidnapped me!” He snarls.   
  
“I hardly kidnapped you,” I say. “You were released to me. Legally.”   
  
“I didn’t want to come with you!” He says. “I wanted to stay at the hospital!”   
  
“This is a much better option.” I try to sound soothing. “Let’s talk- okay? Let’s talk calmly.”   
  
“I don’t want to talk ‘calmly’!” He sneers. “I want to leave!”   
  
“That’s not a good idea,” I say.   
  
He violently pushes my hand off of him, pushing me back a good distance and quickly gets to his feet. “I’m leaving.” He snarls. “Do not come after me.”   
  
I sigh. “You leave and the police will just bring you back.”   
  
“They won’t know it’s me.” He growls.   
  
“That’s actually what I have to talk to you about,” I say.   
  
Daken eyes me for a few seconds- warry. Can’t blame here there. “Go on.”   
  
“The police have your file, they have your information, and they have your address. If you get caught by any of them- in the US... that’s right the entire country- you will be brought back here. You’re too dangerous to just be out on your own.”   
  
“Then I won’t get caught.” He growls. “I’m not an idiot.”    
  
I smirk. “I know you’re not… but you’re gonna find it a little hard to not get caught.”   
  
“And why’s that?” He asks, rightfully suspicious.    
  
I reach into the drawer of the little black nightstand, pulling out a circular metal bracelet.   
  
“Jewelry?” He mocks. “No thanks. I prefer gifts of cash.”   
  
“Yea well... wearing this isn’t really a choice,” I say, taking it into my hands, turning it over in my palm and letting him read it.   
  
“What is it?” He asks suspiciously.   
  
“Identification bracelet. Name, address, the fact that you have an illness, and a number to call if anyone finds you.”   
  
“And what makes you think that I’d wear that?” He sneers.   
  
“Because...” I try to hide my motives as best as possible. “It’s kinda hard to take off.” Before he can react, I grab his hand, pull him to the bed, and latch it around his right wrist.   
  
Daken looks at me with wide eyes. “Take it off.” He says.   
  
“No,” I say.   
  
“It’s the equivalent of a fucking dog’s tag. Take it off!” He yells.   
  
“Take it off yourself.”   
  
He tries in vain for a full three minutes. Finally shaking his head. “Why are you doing this to me??”   
  
There it is. Poor boy doesn’t understand. He doesn’t see why this needs to happen.   
  
Once again I’m the bad guy when literally all I want is for him to be well, happy, and taken care of.   
  
I guess we’re going to have to settle for fucked in the head, miserable, and taken care of- instead.   
  
“Because I care,” I say gently.   
  
“You don’t care. You’ve NEVER cared. What are your real intentions??”   
  
“To take care of you,” I say.   
  
“Why?” He demands.   
  
“Because you’re my kid and I love you?” I say. “It’s really a simple concept, son.”   
  
“Oh, that is rich.” Daken sneers. “You love me NOW- now as my mind is failing and I’m in the most vulnerable state I’ve ever been. NOW you love me.”   
  
“I’ve always loved you,” I say. "Always."   
  
“Yea right.” He snorts. "You didn't 'love me' when you drowned me in that puddle."   
  
"We're gonna talk about that- I promise," I say.   
  
"Why don't we talk about it now, hmm?" He asks.   
  
"Fine," I say. "You forced my hand."   
  
"And you killed me for it." He says.   
  
"You forced my hand," I repeat.   
  
"And how do I know you won't do it again?" He presses.   
  
"Because you won't make me again," I say simply.   
  
"You've always loved your brats more. Your girls. Your students. Your-"   
  
"I know in the past it seems like you've gotten the short end of the stick," I say honestly. "Is it so hard to believe that I want to change that?"   
  
"Yes." he spits. "because you don't change. You never change. I don't know what stunt this is- but when you're done with it I'll either be dead or in a position that's way worse than we started." he glares at me. "And I'd rather be dead. So go on. Save us all some time. Do it."   
  
"Daken-"   
  
"DO IT!" He yells at me.   
  
"No," I say simply.   
  
"What are you waiting for??" He demands. "I'm weaker than I've ever been, I'm unarmed, I can't really fight back. Don't leave me in suspense. Do it!"   
  
"You're baiting me," I say gently. "I won't have any part of it."   
  
Daken grabs my right hand and puts it underneath his chin. "Do it." He hisses.   
  
I open my palm and pat him, making him let go. "No," I say.   
  
Daken falls back in the bed. "Why are you doing this???" He asks. "Why now?? I don't need you now. I needed you decades ago! You weren't there! I've learned how to deal without you. You only bring pain and suffering into my life."   
  
"Daken..." I sit on the bed beside him. "I'm not trying to hurt you," I say gently.   
  
"I really believe that." He mocks, staring at the ceiling.   
  
“I know you don’t believe it right now, but I promise you that you will,” I say.   
  
"If I promise to behave will you take this fucking shackle off my wrist?" He asks.   
  
"ID stays on," I say. "Next step is to put around your neck. Keep it on."   
  
He glares at me. "I hate you," he says. "I really, really, really, hate you." His voice cracks a little.   
  
I nod. "I know."   
  
"Then let me go." He begs.   
  
"So you can go throw yourself off a higher bridge?" I smirk. "No."   
  
"Why are you doing this to me??" He asks again.   
  
"Because I care," I say. "And I know it seems shitty right now- but this is how it has to be. In a few weeks, maybe a month or two, you'll understand."   
  
He's silent for a long moment.   
  
“So I’m to what... stay with you?” He asks. "Forever and ever and ever until we both die?"   
  
“Yes,” I say simply.   
  
"Really?" He asks. "You're going to keep me here. Really?"   
  
"Yes," I repeat. "You'll live here. Where I can be sure you're safe."   
  
He shakes his head. “Do I get a guard at my door? Supervised visits? A warden?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Then how do you plan to keep me in?”   
  
“Trust,” I say. “And the whole if you run off you will be found thing.”   
  
“So.. no one is going to watch me?” He says.   
  
“Oh no, there’ll be people watching,” I say with a chuckle. “We’re just not going to guard your door.”   
  
“And...I don’t get a say.” He states. “In any of this..”   
  
“No,” I say simply.   
  
He nods. “This is to be my room?”   
  
“Yep. Girl’s decorated it for you. When can put more things inside- they’ve just go to go through some checks.”   
  
“‘Checks’?” He asks. “What are ‘checks’ exactly?”   
  
“Tests,” I say. “Everything in this room and that you are allowed to have has been looked over extensively to make sure it can’t be made into a weapon or something that can be used for you to hurt yourself.”   
  
He’s quiet for a minute. “Well, that just sounds like a challenge.”   
  
I have to smirk. “Try it,” I say. “When you get too riled up, we have a room for you too. So don’t push it.”   
  
He glares at me. “If this is my room- can I kick you out?”   
  
“No,” I say.   
  
“Can I lock the door?” He asks.   
  
“Look carefully kid.” I laugh. “There ain’t one.”   
  
“No....” He stares at the door frame like it’s something foreign to him. “You’re going to spy on me, I take it.”   
  
“Rooms right across the hall,” I say.   
  
“Did you remove your door as well?” He asks.   
  
“No- but it will be open at night.”   
  
Daken seems to be thinking.   
  
“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” I say. “You’ll settle in just fine and you might even find that you like it here.”   
  
“I don’t like any space I have to share with you.” He sneers.   
  
“You’ll get used to it.” I pat his shoulder- to recoils from my touch. “Now, do you want to lie down, eat, or take a tour of the school?”   
  
“Is there a ‘none of the above’ option?” He asks.   
  
I chuckle. “Fine. What do you want to do?”   
  
“Have a moment to myself?” He asks.   
  
I have to weigh it out. “Seeing anything?” I ask.   
  
“What?”   
  
“Are you seeing anything?”   
  
Daken freezes.   
  
“Well?”   
  
“Don’t ask me that.” He growls. “Don’t EVER ask me that.”   
  
“I’m going to ask you that a lot,” I say. “Are you seeing anything?”   
  
“I don’t have to answer.” He says moodily.   
  
“Is that a ‘yes’?” I ask.   
  
“Why? So you can knock me out again?” He asks.   
  
“I’m not gonna knock you out again,” I say. “I didn’t like doing that- believe it or not.”   
  
“You could have fooled me.” He says.   
  
I stare him over. “You want to take a shower?” I ask.   
  
He seems to be in thought. “Can I take a shower on my own?” He asks.   
  
“You have a bathroom right over there.” I point to the side of the wall.   
  
“It doesn’t have a door either.” He growls.   
  
“We’re gonna put up a curtain.” I shush him. “Shower is in there. As well as some soaps, shampoos, toothbrush, toothpaste, towels- shit like that.” He seems at least semi-okay with that. “And I picked you up some clothes-“   
  
“Oh, wonderful.” Daken interrupts. “I can’t wait to see what wonderful fashion choices you’ve made.”   
  
“It’s mainly shorts and sweats,” I tell him. “You’re not going anywhere for a while.”   
  
Daken inhales. “So, to recap- You’ve got a countrywide manhunt on your side if I run away, you’ve tagged me like a dog, you’ve taken my privacy, you’re dressing me, and you’re going to hold me here against my will?”   
  
I shrug. “If ya wanna see it that way- be my guest.”   
  
“That’s exactly how I see it because that’s exactly what you’ve done.” He growls.   
  
“No one’s stopping you from feeling like that,” I tell him. “Feel how you want. Just know that that’s how things are for right now. They’re subject to change.”   
  
“Oh, that makes me feel sooooo much better.” He grouses, tugging at his medical bracelet. “Why won’t this come off??”   
  
“Needs two hands,” I say gently. “You’ll get used to it.”   
  
“I don’t want to get used to any of this.” He says- though it’s not a sneer or a growl. It sounds... broken.   
  
“But you will,” I tell him. “You’ll do great.”   
  
His head is hung.   
  
“How about that shower?” I ask. “Wash that hospital smell off of ya?”   
  
He nods. “I’ll take it.”   
  
“Shower only goes up to a certain heat,” I say. “Might find it a little chilly.”   
  
“Wonderful.” He grouses.   
  
“I told ya- we took care of everything. I mean EVERYTHING.”   
  
“I’m so touched that you care.” He says sarcastically.   
  
“I’m gonna sit here on the bed til you’re done,” I say. “Wrap up in a towel when you get out. We got cameras in here and I don’t want you to give your monitor a stroke.”   
  
“Monitor?” He growls.   
  
I nod. “Someone’s always watching when you’re in here. Don’t worry- they won’t be rude about it. You’ve got a speaker on the wall so we can talk to you. So if you hear something in here- it’s not your head, Okay? It’s us. Don’t get freaked out.”   
  
“That’s wonderful.” He says. “No privacy. Oh, thank you so much parental overlord for saving me and putting me in a cage of-“   
  
“You wanna see it as a cage- see it as a cage. No one’s stopping you. You feel how you feel.” I interrupt him. I can see that my statement visibly throws him. “But you have to admit- it’s better to be in a cage than living under a bridge.”   
  
“Says the man who’s never lived in a cage,” Daken says bitterly.   
  
“I lived in a hell of a cage,” I say, putting my hands on my knees. “Go take your shower. Wrap up in the towel.”   
  
He looks at me for a long moment. “Fine.” He says.   
  
“Don’t take too long,” I say. “I will come in there.”   
  
“Spare me.” He sneers, walking to the bathroom and pulling the shower curtain- from the sounds of it. “You... got my things.” He says, sounding shocked.   
  
“Laura told me what you use,” I say. “So long as you don’t try to drink it or some stupid shit- it’s yours.”   
  
He comes to the doorway of the bathroom. “Why would I drink it?” He asks in confusion.   
  
“It’s something they do in psych wards,” I say. “If it’s got a certain alcohol in it- you’re not allowed to have it. You have a bit of a drug problem and-“   
  
“One, I do not have a drug problem.” He growls. “And two, I’m not an alcoholic.”   
  
“And we’re going to keep you that way,” I smirk. “Go on and take your shower.”   
  
He goes back into the bathroom and starts running the water.   
  
I turn my head so I don’t have to look at him undress. He deserves at least that bit of privacy.   
  
The shower curtain to the shower is pulled open and then shut, followed by a loud “FUCK.”   
  
“We’ll work on the water temp later,” I call to him.   
  
“It’s freezing!” He says over the shower.   
  
“Yea well if you don’t want freezing water- you shouldn’t have jumped off a bridge,” I say. “The water in that harbor was way colder.”   
  
“Fuck you!” he yells.   
  
“Wash,” I call back.   
  
This could go on for hours. But.. the boy’s here. The boy’s safe.   
  
And that’s really all I wanted.   
  
We have a steep slope ahead of us- but I’m taking my wins where I can get them. And this? This is definitely a ‘win’ in my book.

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up! Visit from the girls, fight with dad, and a dinner most awkward.  
> Thanks for reading! I post shit about this on tumblr if you want to give me a follow (same name) as well as a bunch of other random shit. Sometimes- I even draw! (using that art degree to the fullest- let me tell you) 
> 
> Also, it should be noted- like I said in an earlier chapter that hallucinations are something normal for me. I don't think they're weird or upsetting because that's a daily occurrence for me (I'm working on it! :) ) So I'll try to tag when they're going to heavily featured in a chapter. They're not going to be the main theme of the next one, but they're gonna be pretty heavily mentioned!


	9. Visits, pills, and family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one got a tad sappy. And also kinda sad. But it will be a good one, I think.  
> Thanks for reading! This one has forced medication but no other warnings.  
> Just your usual chapterly reminder that sometimes doing the right thing for someone that is ill- is not easy. And it doesn't look good on the caretakers part. But- in the end- no one gets hurt.  
> So forced medication- some Daken and Logan fighting... and I think that's it!
> 
> Leave me a kudos or a comment if you’d like! Feedback makes my day!

I stop the car in the roundabout in front of the school and look over at Gabby’s excited face. She’s not stopped smiling since I got Logan’s text. Her joy is almost contagious at this point. 

 “I’m so glad he’s awake!” She says cheerfully. “It’s so late- I thought we wouldn’t get to see him today!”

 There was no way I was letting him go a day in Logan’s care without seeing him.

 He’ll no doubt need some kind of break.

 I’ll offer a sympathetic ear for him. I know he'll need it. I also have a suspicion that he’ll use it. Being cut off from his powers with no way to retaliate should make him feel well… powerless. Daken and ‘powerless’ do not go well together. 

 “I wish you would have got that text earlier, though,” Gabby says. “I was hoping to eat something before we saw him.” I’ve been hearing her stomach growl for the last twenty minutes of our drive. “I know you said to eat lunch- but I got so busy with the whole ‘trying to bathe Jonathan thing’. Man did he not want to cooperate today! I’m actually kinda glad it’s late- I’m hungry, yea. But at least that means he got some sleep- right??” 

 She's right- it's about 8 PM. His 'settling in' took longer than expected.

Maybe that itself was to be expected. At this point our father has had a wonderful time with him- I'm sure. As far as him sleeping- he’s not usually a big daytime sleeper. He prefers to sleep at night- even though he hasn’t been doing a lot of it recently. If Logan got him to sleep during the day- he must have drugged him. 

 I suppose we should prepare ourselves for whatever mess we're about to walk into.

And knowing Daken...it will be a mess of some sort.

Seeing Gabby’s excitement is always like looking into a mirror- literally. She  _ is  _ my clone, after all. She’s the version of me that I would have been if I’d had a better life- not that her life as good by any means, but her happy carefree attitude sees her through almost everything- even all that she’s been through at this point. Sometimes looking into my own green eyes, seeing my own expressions mirrored back to me, seeing a version of me I could have been- is harrowing. Really the only thing separating us are Gabby’s facial scars, our age difference, and Gabby’s sheer stubbornness and determination to stay positive. 

 In a sense, this whole family could stand to learn something from Gabby.

 “That’s okay.” I smile at her. “Logan said we could all eat together.”

 I see that going wonderfully.

 Daken’s not mad (Apparently from what Logan said) but he’s being ‘difficult’. I know how ‘difficult’ Daken can tend to be. I can only imagine how the shifting chemicals in his brain have worsened it. 

 I really don’t know what Logan expected, though. To see him fighting is a good thing in my opinion. It means he’s alert. I read the reports at the hospital. It doesn’t seem like he’ll be alert for very much longer. Not if we don’t figure out what to do. Logan should be grateful that Daken’s still working on that level. 

 I don’t know how this dinner will go- whether it will be a mess of epic portions and awkward or quiet and subdued. At this point, it could go one way or the other. But everything in my mind screams ‘awkward’. Daken will not have taken any of this lying down. He'll put up as much of a fight as humanly possible. And there is something in that to be admired. However, Logan is just as stubborn as Daken is. As we all are. The two of them will just butt heads and go around in a circle if Daken has his way.

 I need to help my brother... but I’ve been doing some thinking and maybe- just maybe -this is the best choice. At least for now.

 When the moment arises, we can make other arrangements. As for now... we'll have to stay the course.

Daken’s going to hate hearing that. Truly hate it. But at the moment, my hands are literally tied. I can’t help him in the way he thinks he needs to be helped. I can just help with the emotional side of things. 

 Gabby opens her door and races to the front of the school- getting there in record time in her carefree rush. 

 She is at least out of her pajamas. I wish her clothes were a little cleaner- though. Her shorts are somewhat dirty from a failed attempt at washing Jonathan today.

 I told her it was not a good idea- but hey. What do I know about raising a wolverine? (besides the fact that I’m ‘technically’ raising one of my own)

 It took all my reasoning to get her to leave him at home. Which- I've also learned- is a horrible idea. But Daken doesn't need a wild animal running around. He'll probably be stressed enough as it is. I had to explain to her what ‘stressors’ were and that we have to keep our brothers very, very, _very_ low. 

 I stare up at the building in front of me. So different from the one I came to originally, but... so similar. You can see Logan was missing 'home' when he built it. Every brick and shingle mirrors his want for his first ‘home’. For the place he felt the happiest. 

 In a sense, this is more my home than any other one I've been to. My father built it. He's made sure that I always have a place here. A room that no one else can ever use. Now, when I stay- I share it with Gabby. But Logan's made it clear that she is also his daughter and that she is always welcome as well.

 The school is just as it’s always been. They strive for structure here. Something the students desperately need-apparently. However, having grown up in schools similar to this one run by the very same people... I know that structure is a little hard to come by. Especially when your school seems to be under constant attack from outside forces. 

 At the very least- the school’s buildings stay intact. And for a school of x-men, that’s really all you can ask for. 

 Its stone exterior hasn’t changed in the years since it was founded. The original one was the same way- no matter how many times it was attacked, no matter how many times it was destroyed- it always went back to normal. Always.

 A large campus surrounds the school and is fenced in towards the back. Not to keep students in- as it looks- but to keep intruders out.

 Never mind that the lawn is a living organism in its own right. No. People will still push their luck.

 The living lawn aspect of the school makes me rightfully nervous. You can hear the creature making noises- even when you don’t see random trees popping up out of the ground to give Kroka’s favorite professors shade. They have a strict rule against students of a telepathic nature trying to make contact with him. While it worked well the first time- someone urging him to create sinkholes to avoid classes is strongly frowned upon. Punishable by several rounds in the danger-room of my father’s choosing. A punishment which no one seems to care for. Though I myself find them very entertaining.

 I have a feeling of nostalgia that I don't necessarily think I deserve to have when visiting the school.

 It's there nonetheless.

 It's accompanied by a pang of guilt. I have fond feelings for this place. My brother, on the other hand, probably sees it as a prison. I’ve yet to discover if he knows about the lawn, which I think he’ll find amusing and want to test in some fashion, but I’m sure it’s at least one thing that will be entertaining enough to keep him around. If only for a few days. 

 I get out of the car and follow my sister to the steps- where she appears to be talking to Rogue, who’s just come out of the large wooden doors.

The older x-woman is dressed for a night in- not looking her usually glamorous self. 

I’m told her… husband? Were they actually married? At any rate, Remy is out of town. She always gets slightly depressed when he leaves her for long periods of time. 

 I wave to the woman as I approach. She’s wearing her opera gloves again- meaning the rumors I heard of her returned ‘untouchable’ status are true. 

 I can tell she's somewhat perturbed.

Her body language is screaming ‘tired’ while her appearance aires on the side of upset. It’s very odd to see Rogue in a state of upheaval. Even her signature hair seems out of sorts. To be honest, I’ve always held something akin to an… infatuation with Rogue. Not that I would ever say anything along those line to anyone. 

 “Hey, sugar.” She says with a smile. “Wanted to warn y'all- it’s like world war three in there.”

 “Oh?” Of course it is. 

 That bodes well for this visit.

 She nods, the white streaks of her hair falling a little into her face. She pushes them back and says, “Your daddy had the ‘audacity’ to demand that he take his medication.”

 “What’s so bad about medication?” Gabby asks. “It keeps him healthy- right? Why doesn’t he want to be healthy?” 

 “Ask your brother.” She chuckles, opening the door for us to enter. “He’ll tell you all about it. At length.”

 I sigh. "How bad is it?" 

 "Let's just say I had to get a little bit of fresh air and a little bit of quiet," Rogue says. “We haven’t had any peace for quite a few hours.” 

 We go into the spacious interior of the school, stopping just in the doorway where the stone flooring meets the hardwood flooring.

 My sibling's plight is noticed immediately by the loud sounds of some kind of tantrum. Not a usual Daken and Logan argument either. I can tell from this distance that it’s far more emotionally charged than their usual scuffs. 

 “If you’ll just calm down,” I hear Logan saying. “Boy, you put that down… I’m serious. Don’t you throw that!” 

 There’s a crash.

 “HEY!” Logan yells. “What did you just tell you!?!” 

 I look at Gabby, who shrugs her shoulders.

“Maybe he didn’t hear him?” she offers. 

"Oh, he heard him.” Rogue says.    
  
There’s yet another loud crash- whatever he’s throwing, he’s found more of it. 

 “Annnnnnd I’ll add new dishes to this ever-growing grocery list.” Rogue sighs, she motions to the kitchen. “Might as well get in there, honey. I think they’re on the brink of killing each other.”

 “Wait here,” I tell Gabby, nodding to Rogue who’s standing in the open doorway behind us.

 “I’ll stay with her.” Rogue smiles, closing the door to the crisp night air.

 I exhale slowly, mentally preparing myself for what I'm about to walk into, and follow the sound of my family into the staff kitchen. Plates and glasses are shattered on the floor of the small communal space. The tiles are easy enough to clean- but sweeping up all of this glass is probably going to take at least an hour. There's that much of it. Logan is by the door, dressed in his downtime flannel, and Daken is at the sink by the drying rack- throwing every plate and dish they’ve washed today. Daken's clothing does not look like something he would wear. The shorts are loose and the shirt is big. He usually wears his clothing tailor fitted to show off his body. I guess he and Logan have probably had a few rounds about clothing at this point, as well. 

 Daken's eyes are wide and manic- even though he's trying to mask it in a blind rage. The medication issue seems to have triggered something else. 

 The kitchen itself is trashed. Almost to the point of ruin. I’m surprised he hasn’t started to rip the tiles off the floor.

 The sink to back wall of the kitchen has been shaken- which took some effort- I'm sure. The pipes are groaning even though the water is not currently running. The backsplash of the tile mosaic is ruined- which I didn’t know it was possible to do. The table chairs have been shattered on the wall- not that they were hard to shatter. They were cheap in every sense of the word. The wood was not real wood and they were light. They lay in a crumpled pile by the wall that houses the clock- which the glass casing has been shattered off of. The hands lay at 12 and 3- not moving. Over by the sink, the cupboard is barely hanging on the wall. It looks like he tried to climb it. I don't know why he would climb it- but it looks like he did.

The thing I’m most curious about (though there is a lot to be curious about, true) is how Daken has managed to do all of this damage without accessing his claws. There was bound to be some form of injury he acquired while doing this. I’m wondering if Logan had the wits about him to put a stop to it before Daken was really able to hurt himself.

 “Take the damn pills,” Logan says, holding his hands up in a ‘calm down’ motion. “Okay? Take the pills and we can stop this bullshit. I’ll back off and you can do whatever you want to do- okay?” He sounds like he’s talking to a child- which is going to be his first mistake.

 My brother still has several dishes to throw if pressed. I watch our father with a sense of curiosity as to how he's going to handle this. If he can handle this well- I'll back down and not fight him taking Daken so much.

 "Calm down," Logan says. "Just calm down. Breathe- focus. Okay? Just breathe. In and out."

 Daken snarls in an incompressible way, throwing another plate.

 “Stop!” Logan yells, losing whatever patience he was trying to establish. “I mean it- goddamnit! You stop right now!” 

 Yelling at him isn’t going to help the situation- not like Logan thinks it’s going to- at any rate.

 Daken throws another plate- shattering it on our father's forehead.

 “Goddamnit!” Logan growls. “I will come over there!”

 Daken picks up the whole blue plastic drying rack and chucks it at our father.

 It smashes into the wall beside his head. 

 “Boy, you are this close to getting your ass beat.” He says, pinching his finger and his thumb together. “This close- I fucking mean it.” 

 Daken grabs a handful of silverware out of the silverware drawer and flings it at my father who luckily dodges all of it save one smaller spoon which hits him in the cheek.

 Logan crosses his arms. “You done?” he asks. 

 Daken is obviously looking for more things to throw.

 “You’re out of ammo,” Logan says somewhat smugly. “Now take these nice little-“

 Daken climbs the sink for a second- standing pressed between the cupboard and the counter- before jumping off onto our father. He's obviously trying to get the high ground and go for a blow to the head.

 It’s a move I’ve seen him use several times when fighting but it’s not as graceful as it usually is. He’s fighting like a cornered animal. Which is not his style at all-  in fact, he prides himself in NOT fighting like an animal. Like our father tends to do. It seems he’s really being pushed to his limits. Which I can’t understand at all. This isn’t even that big of a deal- he’s completely overreacting.

 Logan quickly moves out of his way, letting him crash to the floor.

 "Enough!" He snarls.

 My brother rolls to his feet and tries to sweep Logan's out from under him with his leg.

 Again, our father dodges.

 It's like one of their battles sans the claws- which I see that they're still restraining on Daken.

 "Enough!" Logan yells, voice echoing off the ceiling and the walls.

 I can see Daken hesitate. The loud noise spooked him. 

 "You're taking these pills," Logan says, softer than before. "And that's it. You're taking them- and that's it." He repeats himself. "That's it. Got me?"

 I can visibly see Daken thinking it over.

 I find it weird that he hasn't said anything during this encounter. Usually, his fights with Logan have some sort of dialogue. As is, Daken just looks caged and cornered. It's not a good look on him.

 Logan takes a step forward from his spot beside the small table- giving my brother very little time to decide what to do.

 I can see it when he makes up his mind. His intentions literally all over his face.

 His eyes dart to me in the open doorway and he lunges into motion, making it past Logan and out the door- right by me.

 “You’re taking the pills!” Logan calls after him.

 I nod to Logan. “I see it’s not going well.”

 “That it is not.” He says, crossing his arms. There’s more commotion up the stairs- making Logan smile. “But I got back up.”

 I can hear my brother cursing at the top of his lungs- voice moving closer to us.

 Colossus, in his metal form, has him over his shoulder- toting him back to the kitchen.

Daken pounds on his large shoulders with a closed fist- breaking his fingers in the process. 

 “This is for your own good,” Colossus says, his accent rolling the words into something harsher than they should be. “You will thank us when you have your wits about you.” 

 He drops Daken on the floor gently- right at Logan’s feet.

 “How’d that go for you?” Logan asks.

 Daken glares at him.

 Logan bends down, getting on his level. “Now.” He says. “You’re gonna take-“

 Daken lashes out and punches him in the face before he can get the sentence out.

 Logan recoils with a growl, clutching his nose. 

Adamantium bones guarantee no breaks- but it doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain. 

 “Are you gonna do this every time it’s time for pills?” Logan asks, letting go of his face and staring my brother over. 

 Daken’s still glaring at him.

 “Take that as a ‘yes’.” He mumbles, getting back to his feet and trying to contain my brother by means of holding him down by the shoulder.

 Daken, in turn, kicks him in the abdomen.

 “Don’t fight your father so,” Piotr says. “He’s only trying to help you.” 

 Daken responds by going after Logan harder- kicking him repeatedly in the abdomen and trying to take a shot for his groin

 “Laura- help me out.” Logan hisses, blocking all of my brother’s attempts. 

 My brother's wide blue eyes turn to me. Almost pleading with me not to take our father's side.

 “It seems he doesn’t want to take the pills,” I say stiffly.

 “Well, he’s gonna.” Logan walks back over to the counter, getting an unbroken glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the sink.

 Daken stays on the floor, watching him like a hawk.

 “Pete- bring him over here,” Logan says with his back turned to them.

 Colossus picks Daken up by the arm- dragging him over to Logan.

 “Hold him still,” Logan says, turning back around.

 Piotr gets a secure hold on my brother and holds him immobile by pressing down on his shoulders and anchoring him in his spot. “Easy now.” He says. “I mean you no harm.” 

 “Now,” Logan turns around and faces him. “You’re gonna take this. It is not a choice.” 

 Daken shakes his head violently- probably knowing better than to open his mouth and speak. 

 “He won’t even talk to me,” Logan says to me over his shoulder.

 “I couldn’t possibly understand why he would be upset enough not to speak to you,” I say dryly.

 Logan rolls his eyes. “Five pills.” He says. “Every four hours.”He grabs Daken by the chin. “Spit them out and I will cram them down your throat.” He threatens.

 Daken goes completely stiff.

 “Open your mouth,” Logan says.

 Daken stays motionless.

 “Open. Your. Mouth.” Logan demands.

 He shakes his head again.

 "Daken..." Logan says. "Boy, I've lost all my patience for this. You attacked me, you attacked Pete, you’ve completely destroyed this kitchen- I am literally at my wit's end."

 Daken spits in his face, making him recoil again.

 “Son, I am not playing this game every four hours.” He growls.

 “Then let me go,” Daken says quietly. “I won’t be as much of a pain in the ass if you let me go.” 

 “You are not getting out this by being difficult.” Logan picks a handful pills up off the counter, “Open your mouth or I will open it for you.”

 Daken tries to struggle- but he’s held too firmly.

 “This is for your own good,” Logan says. “Trust me- it’s hard on all of us to see you like this.”

 My brother shakes his head again, letting out a groan as he's held firmly in place.

 “I know,” Logan says. “I know- you’re prideful. You’re stubborn. Boy- you get that honest. But you’ve got to cave- okay? Cave. Meet me halfway. Compromise. You know what any of that means?”

 “I’m not an idiot,” Daken growls.

 “I know you’re not,” Logan says much more gently than before. “And I know that somewhere in that brain of yours you know this is a necessary evil. So….here we go.”

 Daken actually lets him put the pills in his mouth.

 “See- that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

 My brother goes quiet, watching my father expectantly. 

Something isn’t right. That was too easy.

 “You can comply,” Logan says.

 Daken still doesn’t say anything.

 Logan looks him over for a long minute. “You’re hiding those under your tongue- aren’t you?” 

 Daken nods.

 “Swallow,” Logan says.

 He shakes his head.

 “Swallow or I will put you in the calm down room until you... calm down.” Logan threatens, holding a glass of water to him.

 Daken shrugs Colossus off and actually takes the glass, taking a big gulp.

 “See?” Logan pats his shoulder. “Good. I'll let you settle down a bit- okay? Your sister will bring you to the dining room. Come with a better attitude- got me?" He starts to leave, putting his hand on my shoulder as he passes. “Supper is in twenty.” He says. “Ro’s almost got it ready.”

 I nod, staring at Daken.

 Piotr excuses himself and walks past me as well, saying something in Russian to the effect of ‘poor child’. I full-heartedly agree with his statement. 

 Daken smirks when they’re gone. As if he’s won something. 

 “Are you okay?” I ask, unsure of his sudden change in attitude from a few seconds ago. 

 He opens his mouth and shows me the five pills on his tongue, leaning over into the sink and spitting them out. He turns on the water and washes them down the drain.

 “Bastard.” He hisses, watching them dissolve.

 “Those are good for you,” I say, leaning in the doorway.

 Daken looks at me “Don’t side with him.” He says. “He doesn’t need anyone else on his side.”

 I nod. “I’m sure you feel very outnumbered.”

 “Outnumbered.” He snorts. “Right.”

 “I’m glad you’re okay,” I say. “Medicated or not.”

 "We're going to stay in the 'or not' category." he grouses.

 "How are you feeling?" 

 "Like shit," he admits. "And fuckface isn't helping."

 "I'm sure he's got his own distorted reasons for his actions."

 That was hard to watch. Even harder because it was my brother going through it.

 "Fuck him," Daken growls.

 "I'm sorry you're here against your will," I say gently.

 "Thanks." He says. "You're the first person to put it like that."

 "I know you're struggling. This is hard on you. I'm sorry no one seems to be trying to see it through your eyes."

 He nods. “Is Gabby here?” he asks, changing the subject.

 He's not comfortable with that kind of emotion. I know that. It took me years to be able to handle things like that.

 “Gabby is here,” I confirm. “She wanted to see you.”

 “I’m glad you could make it to our little dinner party,” Daken says.

 “We’re glad to see you- regardless of the circumstances,” I say.

 "Can you please tell him to let me go?" He asks. "Please. I'm begging you."

 "It can't be that bad."

 The room is quiet.

 "Daken?" I ask, concerned. "Is it that bad?"

 Daken crosses his arms. “He tagged me.” He says quietly. I can hear the hurt in his voice.

 “Tagged you?” I ask in confusion.

 “Like a dog.” He says. “He tagged me like a dog.”

 “Daken-“

 “And then he forces these pills down my throat.” He says. “Every four hours- like clockwork. It’s barely even worth fighting him off.”

 I don’t have anything to say. How could I?

 “He doesn’t want me.” He says quietly. “He wants this made up version of me.”

 “I know-“

 “No, you don’t,” Daken says bitterly. “You never had to be better. You always were what he wanted. I’m not.”

 There’s a hurt in his voice I’ve never heard him express before.

 “Hey...” I step forward.

 Daken shakes his head. “I can’t meet his expectations.” He says. “I never have and I never will. He’ll use this whole thing as a ‘Look how good I am’ moment while I sit in this house and rot trying to pretend to be something I’m not.”

 “Daken...” I pull him into a hug- something he’s never let me do before. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s all okay.”

 “It’s not.” He says brokenly. “It’s really not.”

 "I know," I say. "This is awful. But- you've got to try, okay? Try a little longer until we figure something out."

 "I don't want to try," Daken says quietly. "I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore."

 I let him go, staying close to him. "I know," I repeat. "You can always talk to me about this- you know that right? I'll always be here to listen. And I'll step in if it gets any worse- okay?"

 Daken nods. "Okay."

 There’s a cough at the door. “Kids.”

 I turn and see our father.

 He nods to me. “Let me talk to your brother.” He says. “Alone.”

 I look back to Daken who nods.

 I leave the room and go back to Gabby.

 “So... can we see him?” She asks. She’s sitting on the bottom step to the stairs, scooting her tennis shoes across the floor. Rogue is nowhere to be seen- I guess she got called away. 

 “We can,” I say. “After Logan talks to him.”

 I listen carefully- from my spot I hear Logan trying to be reassuring but Daken not letting him.

 After a moment, Daken storms out of the kitchen, heading towards the door.

 “You can’t leave,” Gabby says- shocking him into stillness. “You’re safe here.” She says. “Please... stay. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

 He hangs his head but doesn’t move. “I have to go.” 

 “Come eat,” Logan says, walking behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Your sisters will stay with you.”

 “I want to leave.” He says lowly.

 “You can’t,” Logan says. “Come on, your sisters came to see you- we’re all gonna sit down and eat. I know you’re hungry.” 

 Daken looks at the floor- ignoring eye contact with everyone.

 "Can they stay the night?” He asks quietly.

 “No,” Logan says. “They can’t.”

 “Why?” He asks.

 “Because they can’t,” Logan says. “We need to get you settled in tonight. They can stay in a few days.” 

 I don’t know what point he’s trying to make... but we need to have a united front.

 “We have something to do later anyway,” I tell him. “But you’ll be okay- I promise.” 

 “Come eat,” Logan says. “All of you.”

 Gabby takes Daken’s hands. “Please come eat with us.” She says earnestly. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

 He looks like he’s been hit by a truck.

 Logan squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay.” He says. “It’s all okay.”

 “I don’t need your praise.” Daken spits, shrugging him off but walking in the direction of the dining room.

 We stand in silence.

 “In case you’re curious,” Logan says. “That was an episode. He has several of them a day.”

 “He...”

 “He’s safer here than he is anywhere else,” Logan says quietly. “They’re just going to get worse and worse. If someone sees him like that- they’ll use him. I can’t let that happen.” He pauses. “Not again.”

 I finally understand our father’s position. But I understand that there are things I don’t understand- also. That I can’t.

 And that, most importantly, this thing- whatever it is- has to be solved between him and Daken.

 Logan is on his side.... he’s just having to make the calls to keep him safe.

 “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I should have waited to make my judgment until after I had all the facts.” 

 He nods. “It’s fine.” He says. “Just... help me- okay? Don’t fight with me. It’s going to take all of us to keep this running.”

 “We can keep it running,” Gabby says. “We can totally keep it running.”

 “I know we can,” Logan says. “It’s just gonna be hard- okay?”

 She nods.

 “And you’re gonna see him upset. It’s something that's got to happen. I’m not being cruel, I’m not being uncaring, I’m not trying to change him... He just needs someone to keep him safe.” He says. “And I need your help to do that.”

 “I understand,” I say.

 “Me too,” Gabby says. “We’ll help out as much as we can!” Her positivity is shining through at this moment. And... to be honest- we need that. We need someone’s cheerfulness to balance out the gloom. Without her- we’d sink into despair. And Daken? Daken doesn’t need that right now. He’s got enough despair for all four of us.

 “Thank you,” Logan says, he looks in the direction Daken’s gone in. “Ororo made food.” He says. “Smells good. We should go eat.”

 “Food sounds wonderful,” I say, still digesting everything that’s been said.

 “Let’s eat, then,” Logan says, walking off after Daken.

 Gabby takes my hand, much like she did earlier today. “We got this.” She says.

 She doesn’t need to say anymore.

 I find myself smiling. “We’ve got this,” I repeat.

 She nods. “Let’s eat!” She let’s go of my hand and runs off after our father.

 I stay at the door a little longer.

 My family is unconventional. We will never be ‘normal’. But we can be a family nonetheless. We are. And as a family- in the face of something like this- we are stronger together than we are on our own.

 We may not be normal- but we’re still a family unit and we will handle anything that comes our way as a family unit.

 I can’t understand all of this- but I know that Logan and Daken don’t either.

 My brother needs me and as much as he hates to admit it- he needs our father too.

 And it’s my job- as his sister and as a decent person- to make sure he gets what he needs.

 It may not be what he wants.... but we will make sure his needs are met.

 And eventually... maybe he’ll come to see our way of thinking.

 Maybe he won’t.

 Either way- we’ll be prepared.

 Because in the end- that’s what families do.

 And it’s what we’re going to keep doing- as much as we need to and as long as we need to.

 As I walk into the dining room- though it’s tense- I feel a wave of assurance wash over me and know- this is the right course of action to take. The execution may need to be tweaked a little (Okay- A lot) but this? This is where we need to be right now.

My brother faces a long uphill battle. The odds are not on his side. So it’s up to us to keep pushing.

 And eventually? He’ll join in the fight as well.

 Until that day comes I don't foresee any force of this world or any other world, for that matter, stopping us. 

 


	10. Meals, pliers, and hacksaws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely mentions abuse in this chapter. More like an implied/referenced kind of thing. Also talks about self-induced dental work. As in doing it yourself (Do not recommend) 
> 
> Also suicidal ideation (sorta kinda maybe)  
> Fighting, nonconsensual medical treatment (mentioned) 
> 
> And that’s about it.  
> Thanks so much for reading! Like I mentioned before- right now this is very easy for me to write. So I can pump out a new chapter like... every two days. As I type this I’ve already mentally started writing the next one. 
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

“Pass the bread,” Logan says, not looking up from his plate.

His little ‘family dinner’ has been nothing but long, painful, and awkward. I am not doing a single fucking thing to help it be anything other than what it is- a stupid fucking waste of time.

Family dinners? What the hell is he thinking?? Our family doesn’t do this 1950’s, ‘Leave it to Beaver’, ‘Brady Bunch’ bullshit. We _never have_ and _we never will_. No matter how many times he pushes it. No matter how much he may want it- it’s never going to happen. And that’s the end of it.

He can’t do what he’s done to me and then have the perfect little family. It doesn’t work like that. My mind won’t forget what he’s done. And Laura’s shouldn’t either. He abandoned her just like he did me. Then he comes back and the poor girls waiting for him because she didn’t have anyone else. He didn’t care that he had a daughter. Not then. Probably not now.

God so help him if he tries to pull that shit on Gabby. Gabby’s too innocent for his bullshit. I’ll put this dinner fork right through his temple.

He clears his throat. “Did you hear me?” 

I ignore him, staring at my own plate instead. The actual food part of the meal hasn’t been terrible by any means. But I’m not willing to make this any easier on him. Especially not after that stunt he pulled in the kitchen.

Forcing shit down my throat. He’s as bad as that quack at the hospital. I don’t care how bad it gets- I have a say in what I will and won’t do.  
  
We are NOT on the same team.

He can try to play the “I’m on your side’ all he wants.  
  
I’m not caving. I’m not budging. And I am most _definitely_ not bending to his will everytime he snaps his fingers and has the very, very, _very_ rare original idea.

Why should I help him when all he wants to do is to make my life miserable?

Feasibly I could try to get away- but where am I going to go? I have no money, I have no phone, I have no car- I’m literally stranded here. Which is exactly what he wants-  me to be stranded and helpless. All the better for padding his superhero ego when he tells all his friends and the plight of his poor helpless son and how he had the grace to take him in.

It’s so much fucking bullshit that I’m gagging just thinking about it.  
  
The dining room that this horrendous meal is taking place in is a rather large space. One wall lined with windows and a set of large doors leading into it. It’s easily blocked off by means of said doors. Meaning they can have privacy whenever they want. Lucky them.

The room is ... Fancy. Wannabe fancy at any rate.  
  
The table is long enough to seat at least twenty people. My little 'party' is seated at the end of the table to the right side of the room. Right underneath the chandelier. Oh, I've thought of how to snap the chord to that beautiful glass creation and send it down on Logan's head.

He sits at the head of the table- again with this age old bullshit notion of ‘the man of the house’- Ororo to his left, sitting by a Laura, and Gabby and I sit to his right- along the windowed side of the room.  
  
The wood of the table is real wood- not cheap. Not something that heated plates or dishes are going to leave white rings on. Which cheap furniture does from time to time. No- it's real. Only the best for Logan and his merry band of assholes. He’s got all the money in the world to spend on his precious school. His lovely friends, his lovely ‘family’. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I take another bite of meatloaf- continuing to act like he hadn’t spoken.  
  
I'm trying not to outwardly show it- but god damn my teeth hurt. This is the first solid meal I've had in awhile. The meat was seemingly mushy enough- not something I usually strive with my meat, but the taste more than made up for the texture. But damn- they hurt so fucking much.  
  
I wish I'd pulled them when I had the chance.  
  
“Daken- pass the bread.” He repeats, heatedly at that, looking up at me.  
  
Am I annoying him? The mighty parental overlord? How dare I??? How dare I not be his little live in patient with grace and serenity? How could I possibly do that to _him?_ Him? Of all people? After all he’s done for me. _How ungrateful could I possibly be??_  
  
He can go fuck himself.

Preferably with something jagged and pointy.  
  
I'll pull every act of spite I can actively manage. I don't care if neither of us gets anything done for the next 20 years- I'll still be going in this pointless circle with him. At least if we're moving in a circle- no one is really getting the upper hand. We're just revolving around the issues. Round and round we go. No one wins. No one stops. No one caves.  
  
In this one thing- as much as it pains me to say it- we are evenly matched.  
  
Like he said...I get it honest.  
  
"Earth to Daken," Logan says. "Pass the bread."  
  
“Get it yourself,” I growl, taking the blue bowl of rolls and pulling it closer to me.  
  
Logan sighs. “Boy-“  
  
“I’m not passing you shit,” I say stubbornly.  
  
Round and round we go.  
  
“Pass the fucking bread, Daken.” He groans. “You’re not even eating it.”  
  
Laura puts down her fork and stares at me, mouthing 'stop it'.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
She nods hers.  
  
No, I won't stop it.

I won’t stop _now_ , I won't stop three days from _now_ , I won’t stop _ever_. Not until I’m free of him and all his ‘well meaning’ bullshit.

I don’t deserve this. I haven’t done anything remotely distressing enough to deserve this. 

So I walked off a few buildings- I have a healing factor. What’s it going to hurt? Even the pain was minor compared to other things. Where in the rules of our relationship does that give him the right to step in? That’s not how we do things. That’s _never_ how we’ve done things.  

Logan needs someone to put him in place. If for nothing else to put things back as they were- before all this bullshit happened.  
  
And if I have to do it by means of being petty- I'll fucking do it by being petty.

Him hating me I could stand. Him pretending to be caring and loving and gentle? No. I can’t stand it. I can’t bear it. I need normality. I need… I need us to go back to where we were. Where things were less confusing. 

  
“Maybe I’ll want to later,” I say, internally wincing at the thought of putting that in my mouth.

It’s not even like the bread is particularly hard. My teeth are just _that_ fucked up. 

  
“Then I’ll save you some.” Logan counters. "I'm not gonna eat all of it, I promise."  
  
Hmm. “Maybe I want it all,” I say.  
  
Laura rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning into her chair- settling in for the storm that's brewing.  
  
Ororo and Gabby go on eating like nothings wrong.  
  
“You’re not going to eat seven rolls,” Logan argues. “You’re barely eating one.”  
  
“Well, I’ve just decided I want seven,” I say childishly.

“You’re not eating seven rolls.” He growls.

“You don’t know that.” I smirk. “I could be starving under your care. Just wait until the doctors hear about you withholding food from me.” 

All the dinnerware is blue. All of it. I'm surprised there are enough matching plates to go around.  
  
The meal on its own is fine. Meatloaf with some kind of vegetables I've never had before- and that's saying something.  
  
Logan let everyone else have some kind of soft drink to wash the food down with- but ordered me to only have water. I'll just wait till he's asleep and go dump out all the soft drinks. That's getting back at him for sure.  
  
“Son....” Logan sighs. "Just pass the fucking bread."  
  
"Oh, I'll pass the bread," I say. I turn to Gabby- who’s wearing her ‘I tried to do something with Jonathan the wolverine’ outfit and smells distinctly like wet dog.. “Would you like bread, Gabby?” I ask.  
  
She grins. “Yes, I would.”  
  
Gabby's the only one who seems amused by my actions.  
  
If I were a more 'sane' person, I'd wonder if that's because she's a child- and I'm acting like a child. Ergo I'm funny.  
  
But I'm actively avoiding logic.  
  
I’m narrowing everything down into two categories. "Does Logan like this?" if so I do the opposite. 'Does Logan not like this' if so I continue with my actions.  
  
Everything can be put into those two categories. It's made my 'moves' all extremely easy to make. Barely any thought behind them at all, really. It’s the easiest method I’ve concocted when it comes to dealing with him. If I can’t fight him, scare him, or threaten him off- I might as well try a different more annoying tactic.  
  
“You can have bread.” I pass her some, she’s sitting to my left, furthest away from Logan.  
  
“Thanks!” She laughs, taking a roll and biting into it.  
  
“That’s very funny, Daken,” Logan says. “Now pass the bread.”  
  
“Laura, would you like bread?” I ask, ignoring Logan.  
  
Laura shakes her head. “No.”  
  
“Are you sure?” I ask.  
  
“Yes.” She looks at Logan, who’s crossed his arms and is scowling.  
  
“Pass the fucking bread.” He says. “I won’t ask again.”  
  
“Ororo would you like bread?” I ask.  
  
She sighs. “No, Daken. I do not want bread. Your father would though, I believe.”  
  
"My who?" I ask innocently.  
  
Ororo looks at me with a look that's hard to interpret but reads as somewhat amused.  
  
“You done?” Logan asks when I put the bowl back in front of me. “Really- are you done yet?”  
  
“No,” I say. "There's so much more I could do!"  
  
"So much more you could do' my ass." Logan scoots his chair back, standing to his feet and walking towards me.

I have very limited options and very little time to decide what to do.

What I do have, however, is an open window behind me and a small bowl that can be easily flung. 

  
As he reaches me, I pick the bowl up and toss it out the open window. I can hear some students cry out in surprise.  
  
Logan exhales slowly. “Why did you do that?”  
  
“Birds wanted bread,” I say.  
  
“There are no birds,” Logan says dryly.  
  
“Lawn wanted bread,” I say smugly. "You can never neglect a hungry lawn, you know."  
  
Logan bites his tongue and goes back to his seat.  
  
“Can I ask you to pass me the salt or are you going to throw that out the window too?” He asks.  
  
“There’s a high possibility of it,” I say.  
  
“Gabby- take the salt from him and give it to me,” Logan says.  
  
I look at my little sister before taking the glass cylinder and unscrewing the metal top.  
  
“Boy-“ Logan starts.  
  
I glare at him and dump the salt on my plate. All of it. When it’s empty, I put the cap back on. “Laura would you please pass the salt to Logan?” I ask.  
  
"That's very mature," Logan says  
  
"I know it is. Standing up to a tyrant is never easy." I say with a smile.  
  
"I'm a tyrant now?" he asks.  
  
"If you have to ask then you have your answer."  
  
This tension has been going on for well over an hour. I'm not going to make it any easier on him. Why should I? I’m being held captive here in the name of something stupid and misconstrued. Why should I make this easy on him? I’m the victim here!  
  
Logan nods. “So... you poured the salt out and threw the bread out the window. You got anything else you want to do during this supper or are you saving some up for breakfast?”

Judging by the smirk on his face- I can tell he thought that line was clever. 

  
“I’d like to throw my plate at your head, but Laura’s in the way,” I say, smiling pleasantly.  
  
“I appreciate you not clonking your sister in the head with a plate,” Logan says, taking a bite of his meatloaf. “It’s very considerate of you.” His mouth is full. Heathen.  
  
"I think you should invest in paper plates, Logan," Laura says.  
  
"Yea." Gabby agrees. "Besides- then you wouldn't have to do dishes!'  
  
I look at my little sisters fondly. "He's too 'formal' to buy something as basic as paper plates," I say. “He’s really turned a new leaf. It’s a miraculous thing.”  
  
"Since when am I 'formal'??" Logan laughs.  
  
"Since you decided to be an ass and try this ‘family dinner’ bullshit." I smile.  
  
"I think we need to reevaluate who's being an ass here," Logan says, taking another bite.  
  
With that being said, I stand up and push my plate to the center of the table. “Well, it’s been fun,” I say dryly. “I’m going to go somewhere else now.”  
  
“No you’re not,” Logan says. “Sit down. You have to eat at least 500 calories a meal.”  
  
“Oh is that right?” I mock. "Thank you, father! I spent so many years of my life failing to feed myself. I had no idea until your wonderful brain came along to help my poor, defenseless, self. Oh,. what a marvelous help you’ve been in this dark and trying time in my life.”  
  
“To begin with you need 500 calories,” Logan says- ignoring my mockery. “A body of your size needs a lot of calories to run. The hospital was feeding you through a tube. Now you’re going to get them by eating for yourself. Got it?”  
  
Time to do some haggling. I think I've got him where I want him.  
  
"If I eat now will you drop the eating thing for a later meal?" I ask, making it sound like I was in thought over the question. In reality,I I’ve been trying to figure out how to get away with eating as little as possible. Consider this my form of protest. I’ll make myself so ill that they’ll have to take me out of his care.  
  
He looks me over. "Why?"  
  
"I don't want to eat breakfast and I don't want you to pester me about it as soon as I wake up," I say simply.  
  
"Fine," Logan says. "Eat the meatloaf and I won't bug you about food tomorrow morning."  
  
I sigh and sit down. "Fine," I repeat his statement.  
  
“Get a new plate.” Logan orders.  
  
I reach into the middle of the table and pick up a blue plate.  
  
“Get some food.” He orders.  
  
“Will you stop coaching me???” I snarl. “I know how to have dinner- believe it or not.”  
  
“Tell you what I ‘believe’,” Logan snorts. “That you’re gonna throw bowls out the window and dump salt on your plate. If you keep acting like that- we’ll send you to the kiddie table.”  
  
“Fuck off.” I flip him off.  
  
“Eat .” He counters.  
  
The females at the table are eerily quiet.  
  
I take some meat and put in on my new saltless plate.  
  
I feel everyone’s eyes on me as I pick up my knife. Mines plastic- unlike all of theirs.  
  
“Worried I’ll cut myself?” I ask everyone in general.  
  
There are a few murmured 'yeses'.  
  
Logan eyes me. “Honestly- yes.” He says, being the main voice of 'reason' for the other's I suppose.  
  
I cut the meat and set the knife down. “Is that to your satisfaction?”  
  
“Yes.” He repeats, going back to eating his own meal.  
  
The room is quiet.  
  
Ororo clears her throat. “How do you like your room, Daken?” She asks. "Are you settling in okay?"  
  
“It’s a room,” I say, not looking up from my plate. "And no."  
  
“I'm sorry to hear that." She says sweetly. "Is there anything we can do to help you? Did you see anything you needed in your room that would make you happier?"  
  
Actually- yes. Yes, there is. I lost all of my technology. I want new things.  
  
“Laptop, tablet, cell phone, TV,” I say without pausing.  
  
“That shits triggering,” Logan says, looking up from his plate. “You can’t have it.”  
  
“I’m an adult,” I say. “I can have a tablet.”  
  
“You get a tablet and I’ll put parental controls on it,” Logan says.  
  
“You wouldn’t dare,” I growl.  
  
“It’ll be bought with my money.” He says. “So yea- I’ll control what you do with it.”

There’s a great amount of tension mounting between my father and me. 

I toy with my fork- this utensil is metal- and consider borrowing a few moves from an old boyfriend of mine. Lester’s ‘turn anything into a deadly weapon’ was a wonderful quirk of his. He was known to take people out with forks quite often when he was out and about.  
  
“I have a tablet you can use, Daken,” Gabby says, breaking up the tension with a single sentence.

Of course she would try to help me. Gabby’s the most innocent person I know. She doesn’t understand Logan’s side as of yet- not completely. She just knows that I want something and he says I can’t have it. That means she thinks she has to help. 

“Thank you.” I glare at Logan.

Gabby smiles wide. “Anytime! I want a new one anyway!”  
  
“He’s not using a tablet right now,” Logan says. “If you want to watch TV or something- you can do it with the rest of us in the living room.”  
  
I look him over for signs of weakness or caving. There are none.

“And you’re not getting a new tablet, either,” Laura says. “We don’t have the money.”

Laura’s dressed in her usual ‘downtime’ get up. Some sort of black leather that’s far too tight and is showing off far too much skin. God help the soul who tries to say anything about it to her. Myself included.

“I need some privacy,” I argue with my father. “Online privacy is important to me.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Logan says. “But you’ll look up something that will upset you- because I know you and I know how you are when you’re being stubborn. Until you’re in a better place- we’re watching what you watch. What media you consume, what platforms you’re on, what-” 

“I get it!” I snap.

“No, you don’t.” He chuckles. “But you will.” He looks up from his plate. “No technology.”

“Not even a phone?” I scoff. 

He’s quiet for a minute.

  
“Fine. You can have your phone. But that’s it. And you’ll tell us the passcode. Got it?”

“Fine.” My old phone is still functional. If I hook it up to the wiFi tonight- I can at least send Imessages. Which will be more than enough to contact Laura if I should need her.

As far as the tablet and the laptop- That’s a fight I know I won’t win.

“You can at least get him a laptop.” Gabby rolls her bright green eyes. “What’s he supposed to do with his free time if he can’t watch Netflix????”

“The child has a good point,” I say.

“Smart TV in the living room,” Logan says simply. “Gets all that streaming shit.”

I watch my company- everyone seemingly caught up in their own thoughts.  
  
“Yea, okay,” Gabby says. “But what if he wants to watch it in bed?”

“Beds are for sleeping, Logan says. “Not watching TV.”

“Laura and I watch Netflix in bed.” Gabby argues.

“Beds are for sleeping.” Logan says sternly. “And that’s the end of it.”

“I could get a small TV.” I say.

“You will get no TV. You have access to a TV. You don’t need another.”

“But what if-” Gabby starts. 

“No ‘what if’s’, Gabby.” Logan says. “Seriously. This conversation is over.”  
  
“...Then why are you still talking?” Gabby asks.

Logan inhales deeply, but says nothing.

Gabby leans over and whispers, “I tried. Maybe we can get him in a few days when he’s in a better mood.”

I can’t help but admire her tenacity.

“So what would you have me do in my new abundance of free time?” I ask, half curious/half wanting to keep the argument going. If I get him riled up enough- he’ll leave. And that would really make my night.     

“You can spend some time reading- you were alive when there weren’t Tv’s, I know it won’t bother you that much.” Logan says “If you don’t want to read you could spend your time… exercising..Or drawing, or something like that. Point is- you’ll figure something out. You’re resourceful enough.”  
  
“What?” I ask, shocked. Is that a random blurb or does... he know something I didn't tell him?

“I said you’re resourceful enough-” 

“Not that part.”

“Which part?”  
  
“The part about drawing. Why did you say that?”  
  
“Drawing…? You’re upset because I told you to draw?” Logan asks.

“I’m upset because you’re treating me like a child.” I lie. Well, half lie. This whole situation is airing on the side of childishness.

“Becuase I told you to draw?” He scoffs. “It’s not like I said get a coloring book out. Relax.”

“Why did you say that?” I press.

“I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this.” He says. “Your bag- you had a sketchbook in it. Are you happy? Is your big mystery solved now? Can we go back to eating?”

There was indeed a sketchbook in that bag. When you're living in your car (before the wreck) and your mind if failing- you get these random bouts of creative desperation. It was something to do with my hands to take my mind off of things. A sketchbook can go literally anywhere. You don't have to charge it. You don't need special things to operate it. Just a plain old number 2 pencil and some eraser of some kind.  
  
It can take the mind off of things like... imaginary cats... and starvation.  
  
“You went through my things???” I ask, more offended by him knowing things about me that I don't want to be known than I am by the actual act of him invading privacy.  
  
“The hospital went through your things,” Logan said. “It was really good. You’re very talented.”  
  
I just stare at him.  
  
I don't need his praise. Not on something like that.  
  
But still... the sketchbook is very personal to me. I feel like it's a side of me that not just anyone should be able to see.  
  
"Fuck you," I say sourly.  
  
“I'm not lying.” He says. “You are. You had some amazing cityscapes- which were very detailed. The girls, a few women- clothed which I found kinda surprising, and some kind of machinery.”  
  
Ororo clears her throat. "Your attention to detail is very amazing," she says. "As is your line work."  
  
"Oh, so she saw it too?" I growl.  
  
"Yea- she was with me when they went through the bag," Logan says. "It was good so I showed someone. I was surprised."  
  
“Did you give the book back?” I ask.  
  
He nods.  
  
“Good. Now I have to burn it.” I say cattily.  
  
“You shouldn’t.” He says. “Shit like that can be relaxing. I think you should do it more.”  
  
We’re quiet for a moment.  
  
“You drew us?” Laura asks.  
  
“Yea,” I say.  
  
“That’s sweet.” She says.  
  
“I was bored.” I try to deflect the compliment.  
  
“Do you ever do anything else?” Ororo asks. “Paint? Sculpt?”  
  
I shake my head. “I draw. Barely.”  
  
“You’ve got a lot of talent,” Logan says. “Pete’s an artist. You should draw with him sometime.”  
  
“Pass.” I take my cup and drain it. The water tastes funny.  
  
“Not gonna push it,” Logan says. “Just sayin’. I think you’d like it more than you’d like to admit.”  
  
Romulus was never a fan of my drawing. I don’t think he was a fan of anything that let me express myself. If I was expressing myself- I wasn’t under his control. Hence it was not worth allowing me to do.  
  
I eat a miserable amount of food before pushing my new plate next to my old one with the salt on it.  
  
“Is that enough?” I ask.  
  
“Not really,” Logan says. “But I know that’s all you’re going to do and honestly don’t want to fight with you anymore. We got meal replacement shakes in the kitchen. Grab one of those before you go to bed tonight.”  
  
“Bed? You’re really going to send me to bed?” I look out the window- it is dark now. I don't plan to go when he tells me to, however.  
  
Logan nods and  looks at his watch. “Nurse said 9:30. It’s... 9:40 right now. So.... guess it’s time for you to turn in.”  
  
I glare at him. “And you’re going to what- force me up the stairs?”  
  
“I could get Kurt to teleport you there, I could get Pete to carry you there, or I could get Jeanie to fuck with your mind and make you go willingly… or you can stop putting up so much of a fuss and go on your own..” He pauses, setting his fork down on the table. “Choice is yours.”  
  
“I’ll go willingly,” I say. “Your choices suck.”  
  
“Yep.” Logan nods, standing up and nodding to his girlfriend. “Great dinner darlin’.” He says. “I’m gonna get the kid to bed.”  
  
“Thank you.” Ororo smiles. “Goodnight Daken.” She says to me, sweetly. “Have pleasant dreams.”

  
If I had the ability to go about lucid dreaming- I would do the very opposite- as is, I’ve really got no control over the matter so I just ignore her statement.  
  
“Goodnight!” Gabby calls. “Text me in the morning! I want to hang out with you some more!”  
  
“He’s gonna be busy in the morning,” Logan says. “But, he’ll be free by 3. You can hang out then.”  
  
“Busy?” I ask, surprised. So soon? I thought he’d lock me in the house for at least a week before letting me roam. . “Busy with what?”  
  
“Just busy,” Logan says cryptically. “Say goodnight to your sisters. You have to go to bed.”  
  
“What will I busy doing tomorrow morning?” I demand, staying seated.  
  
“Stuff,” Logan says. “Get up.”  
  
“What kind of stuff??” I growl.  
  
“Health stuff,” Logan says. “Let’s go.”  
  
I can’t believe he’s trying to pull this shit- again!  
  
“I’m not moving until you tell me what kind of health stuff I’ll be doing,”I demand.  
  
Gabby and Laura avoid my gaze- as if I'm being too difficult.  
  
“Dentist,” Logan says after a long tense moment. “You’re going to the dentist.”  
  
“I don’t need to go to the dentist!” I snarl.  
  
“You’ve been wincing this whole meal and you haven’t eaten anything that you have to bite hard,” Logan says. “Your teeth hurt. We’re going to get them fixed.”  
  
“All I need is a pair of pliers!” I argue, standing up. Logan sighs and walks over to me, trying to take my arm- “Don’t fucking touch me!” I yell.  
  
“I’m just gonna take you to your room. Calm down,” Logan says. “Say goodnight to everyone.”  
  
I turn and look at Laura, who’s pointedly looking down. “Laura- stop him,” I beg.  
  
“You do need to see a dentist- Daken.” She says. “He’s not wrong.”  
  
“Would it help if someone went with you?” Ororo asks.  
  
“No!” I say. “All I need is a pair of pliers! We don’t have to waste the time or the energy!”  
  
“Do you know how much strength it requires to pull teeth?” Logan says.  
  
I shake my head. “This is stupid. Moronic. I don’t need to go to some jackasses office and let them pull my teeth. I know they’ll grow back. I’ve lost teeth literally my whole life. Just let me pull them out and we can go about our lives!”  
  
“You’re not ripping your own teeth out.” Logan takes my arm again.  
  
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I repeat, yanking it back.  
  
“Daken, we’re not doing this right now,” Logan says. “We’ve done this all fucking day. I am exhausted. Just go to your room and go to sleep- okay? Go to sleep. For the love of god, go to sleep.”  
  
“You’re not taking me to someone else to pull my teeth.” I hiss, pulling away from him. "I'm leaving."

“You’re not leaving.” Logan sighs. “We’ve been over this all fucking day. Where are you gonna go, huh? Who’s gonna take you in?”

The statement hits like a ton of bricks.

“Logan,” Ororo says quietly, “that was a little harsh.”

Logan looks me over. “I didn’t mean it that way.” He says. “You know I didn’t.”  
  
“Fuck you.” I growl.  
  
He doesn’t know… he can’t… I never told him.  
  
But when I was younger- when I wanted to run away from Romulus, that’s something he always asked me. ‘Who will take you in? Where will you go? You have no one.’.  
  
I don’t need anyone to take me in. I don’t need anyone at all. I could do this on my own.

“Daken..”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me- for the record.” I growl. “And I have places to go. I have people who would actually want to see me. I have…” I stop. Everyone who even remotely likes me… is in this room. “I have..”  
  
Everyone’s staring at me.

“Fuck you.” I repeat. “Really- fuck you. Mr. High and mighty. Look at me! I’m such a good hero! Look at all the good things I do! You’re a shitty person and you’re a shitty father.” I will myself to calm down.

“Son-”  
  
“Just… leave me alone.” I say quietly. “Please. I’ve hit my limit for Parental interaction for the day.”

He nods. “Go on up to bed and get ready for bed.”

I don’t need to be told what to do.

I glare at him for a moment. “I hate you.” I tell him.  
  
He nods again. “I know you do.”

“Just so we’re clear.” I walk out of the kitchen and start going down the hallways surrounding the area. No really going to be and  trying to avoid any x-men that would help my father put me there. Nightcrawler and Rogue are having a conversation on the stairs- I sneak by as quietly as I can.

There’s something I need to take care of before I move any further. 

I need to prove that I don’t need him. To do that- I’ve got to solve my dental problem on my own. To do that will be simply- I just need the right tools and some peace and quiet.  
  
When it looks like I’m in the clear from my father’s lackies, I scent the air- looking for the correct direction to go in. Pliers would be with tools. Tools would be in a garage. A garage would have cars. Motor oil. Antifreeze. Rubber from the tires. I get a faint scent of all of the above coming from the belly of the house.  
  
I was teleported in today and haven’t really been able to get my bearings. I’ll have to spend tomorrow checking the house out and seeing if I can get a better footing as far as knowing where to go, how to get there, and what times of day I should be there.  
  
I look down and see the cat running along beside me- not having legs means it does this hovering sort of thing. Beneath it- where legs should be- are just a collection of shadows- kind of forming some sort of skirt- almost. It’s… hard to describe. If Logan had looked at the sketchbook fully- he would have seen several drawings of the cat. It’s safe to say that he did not. Which makes me happy. I don’t want to share this with anyone.  
  
“I’m angry at you.” I hiss to it. "Go away."  
  
It blinks its green eyes at me.  
  
“I’ve been looking for you all day.” I continue.  
  
It purrs loudly.  
  
“Why did you tell me to stay?” I ask. “There’s nothing here to help me complete his request. I’ve checked for towers and ledges and-” It’s just staring at me. “You shouldn’t have told me to stay.” I hiss. “I don’t need to be here and it’s all your fault that I am.”  
  
It doesn’t answer- but shoots in front of me, darting to a large metal door and rubbing against it.  
  
The scent of motor oil is strongest in that room.

“Guess that’s your way of apologizing.” I muse.

Unfortunately, when I open the door- there’s a few occupants of the room.  
  
It’s easy to recognize Scott Summers. I almost killed him once.  
His glasses make it impossible to see his eyes- and not seeing his eyes make it impossible to judge his expression. For some reason, he's still in that hideous version of the x-men's 'training' costumes. Blue and Yellow in an unflattering cut. They need to fire their tailor.  
  
He’s standing with his wife- a woman of great interest as far as world ending catastrophes go.  
  
She's wearing something that looks like one would wear to a comic convention. Red spandex, lot's of skin showing, long flowing red hair falling out behind her shoulders. I wonder if she's using her telekinesis to help hold it in place like that… that would be an interesting use of power and a wonderful exercise in control.  
  
The two of them notice me as soon as I walk in.  
  
The cat darts from me to them, rubbing against Jean’s legs. I can’t take my eyes off the display.  
  
“Daken,” Scott says. “You look... troubled.”  
  
How to lie with a telepath in the room? I have my own mental protections- but they’re failing more and more as of late.  
  
“Logan sent me for some pliers,” I say, trying to keep my eyes off the cat.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Scott smirks. “And why would he do that?”  
  
“He’s fixing something in my room,” I say, lying easily  
  
“With a pair of pliers?” Jean asks, arching an eyebrow.  
  
I nod. “So... if you could help me find them... I’ll be on my way.”  
  
“Didn’t Logan say you’d be in bed by 9:30?” Scott asks.  
  
“He has to fix the bed before I can lay down in it,” I say. “I’ve very particular about my bed frames.”  
  
“Uh-hmm.” Jean looks at her husband with a knowing look.  
  
The cat shoots over to the corner of the room- by a toolbox.  
  
“Never mind, I think I know where they are.” I walk in that direction and pop open the toolbox, digging through the various screwdrivers and hammers to try and find a pair of decent pliers.

I pick the cleanest pair I can find, large, wide green handle barely smudged with some greasy substance. That- I’m not worried about. The handles won’t be touching anything but my hand. 

There’s a tap on my shoulder- actually making me jump. “I think we need to go see Logan,” Scott says from behind me.  
  
I try to smile my most charming smile. “There’s no need.” I show him the pliers, subtly testing the grip as I hold them. “I’ve got what he needs so I’ll be on my way. Have a good night.”  
  
Now to find a room where I can be undisturbed as I do this.  
  
Scott and Jean are staring at each other in a way that makes me think they’re having a conversation I’m not privy to, so I quickly head out the door.  
  
I’m looking for a bathroom. A bedroom with a lock. Anything.  
  
On my trip around the house, I keep running into x-men. It seems a weird time for them all to be out.  
  
Kitty- I think she’s called- phases through a wall in front of me. The brunette is dressed in  a pair of plain gray pajamas and looks a little disheveled- like she was in bed.  
She walks down the hall in front of me, not saying anything but glancing over her shoulder as if to check where I am.  
  
All the better.  
  
I take a random turn down a hallway to get away from her.  
  
A blonde woman I recognize as a singer/pop star whatever is leaning on the wall of this hallway. Dazzler, I believe. She looks at me with knowing eyes as she texts on her phone. Her hair is shaved short on one side of her head and the longer parts are dyed a bright pink. Interesting look for a ‘normal’ superhero. Right at home for a popstar, however.  
  
“Going somewhere?” She asks.  
  
“Not really.” I put the pliers in the waistband of my shorts- seeing as I have no pockets.  
  
“Time for bed, isn’t it?” She asks.  
  
“Logan said I could stay up for a while longer.” I lie. “I’m just... getting used to the school.”  
  
She nods. “Would you like a tour?”  
  
“No, no. I think it’s better if I figure it out myself.” I say.  
  
“If you’re sure.” She keeps texting.  
  
“I’m sure.” I nod to her and quickly walk to another hallway.  
  
This one’s occupied by children. They make no effort to hide their staring.  
  
At the end of the hall, I run into Colossus again, in the flesh this time.

He’s also dressed for bed- a pair of shorts that are a tad too tight and an undershirt that seems to have some sort of paint smeared on it.  
  
He notes my presence and crosses his arms. “I believe you are meant to be somewhere else- da?” He asks.  
  
“Just going for a walk,” I say, trying to hide my nervousness.  
  
“At 10 at night?” Colossus laughs. “I think not.”  
  
He’s right- he doesn’t think.  
  
I quickly pivot on the spot and run down another hallway- god this place is like a maze.  
  
I pass several more x-men on a journey to get away from their friend. Finally making it to a door to the backyard and flinging it open.  
  
I know logically I can’t get away. But if I could hide for just thirty minutes while I pull these teeth... I’ll be fine.  
  
I jog to a small grouping of trees- hiding behind the thickest one and making sure I’m not in eyesight of any windows.  
  
It's dark as hell. The only illumination comes from the moon overhead. I'll have to be very careful with what I pull. I might just have to blindly remove teeth until I get the ones that need to be got.  
  
It takes a moment to calm my racing heartbeat.  
  
I am not going to a dentist. I have never _been_ to a dentist and I will never _go_ to a dentist.  
  
Logan can shove it up his ass.  
  
I wipe the pliers on my shirt- making a futile attempt to sanitize them. I should have done so in the garage. But I was under scrutiny that I did not need to be under when I trying to do this.  
  
I tongue one of the shattered teeth in the back, opening my mouth and putting the pliers very clumsily around the tooth. The pain is immediate. I actually remove the pliers in a knee-jerk reaction to get them away from my tooth.  
  
This is going to be harder than expected.  
  
“ _That’s not going to do the trick_ .” His voice slithers through the night air as he materializes behind me.  
  
Materialize isn't the right word. He never really 'shows' up. He fades away- like the cat does- but when he shows up it's like he's been there all along and I just couldn't see him. It's an odd feeling. I have this wild racing panic that he's spying on everything I do. That I have to keep him in mind when I'm performing all of my actions.  
  
He is not a happy man. Creature? Man? Shadow being?  
  
Whatever he is- he's never happy.  
  
He wants my life.  
  
And trust me- I want to give it to him. It's just not working for me. If it were- I'd give it to him in a heartbeat.  
  
I sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” I say. “I followed the cat- the cat led me here and then both of you went fucking quiet so I didn’t know what to do.”  
  
_“Didn’t you see a saw in the garage?”_ The man asks.  
  
“Well... yes.” I think back.  
  
“ _And don’t you want that identification bracelet of_ f?”  
  
I nod. Where's he going with this?  
  
“ _And don’t you see a side door to the garage- right over there?_ ” He points.  
  
I... do. I noticed all of this earlier today.  
  
“ _Then you know what you have to do_ .” The man says. _“If you want to get away, you’ve got to make to where you can’t be ID’d. You’re going to have to take the hand off and remove the bracelet.”_  
  
I nod again. “You’re right.”  
  
_“I’m always right.”_ He smirks. _“Now go. Do as you’re told.”_  
  
“What about the pliers?” I ask.  
  
_“You don’t need teeth if you’re going to bleed out.”_ He says wisely. _“Go.”_  
  
He’s right- again.  
  
I drop the pliers- saving them for later by hiding them amongst the grass and leaves- and head towards the side door to the garage.  
  
Luckily- the door is unlocked. The x-men must have an odd sense of security to leave access to their personal vehicles so unguarded. This is a school full of teenagers, after all. Who’s to say that someone doesn’t go joyriding one night and get hurt?  
  
I store away the knowledge of the failed security for later use, sneaking into the garage and crouching down by the doorway. Listening for any signs of people.  
  
The room is dark- unlike a few moments ago.  
  
I fumble around for a light switch of some kind. Finally finding it on the far side of the wall. I made it without bumping into anything- I guess I should be semi-proud of that.  
  
I slowly make my way to the bench where I saw the saw at.  
  
It’s a hacksaw. How joyful. It’s going to take a while and I don’t have that long. Maybe if I push hard and power through it- I can get this done without wasting much time.  
  
I’ve got to do something now, at any rate. Even thinking about it as I am is causing me to lose valuable time.  
  
I extend my shackled hand to the wooden surface of the workbench.  
  
Removing the red handled hacksaw, I take it to my wrist.  
  
Hope they have shop towels in here. This is going to be a lot of blood.  
  
I find myself hesitating.  
  
Should I really...? I mean- I want to... but I almost guarantee I'll be caught before I finish.  
  
“I’ll take that.” The saw is removed from my hands- shocking me. “Where are the pliers?”  
  
I turn around and stare at my father in the face. “I-“  
  
“You came for pliers originally- didn’t you?” He asks. “Don’t know how this business with the saw came about- but you did manage to steal a pair of pliers.”  
  
“I threw them away.” I lie.  
  
Logan nods, taking the hacksaw and putting it in a different toolbox. A red one in the corner that I didn’t notice.  
  
“My eyes and ears said you had the hacksaw. And that you were talking to yourself.”  
  
“I... that’s not true.” I try to defend.  
  
“So I didn’t just catch you taking a saw to your wrist?” He asks.  
  
I stare at him blankly.  
  
“Had the whole team watching you.” He says, locking the toolbox. “You can’t get away with shit- kid.” He says.  
  
“I wasn’t trying-“  
  
“You were gonna pull your teeth out. Then something told you to cut your hand off.” he picks up my wrist, looking at it. “Trying to get the bracelet off?” He asks.  
  
I inhale deeply. “I’ll go to bed,” I say.  
  
“That ship has sailed,” Logan says. “You’re gonna spend the night in another room.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I can’t trust you to sleep on your own.” He says. “We got another room for you. For when you’re upset. It’s got a bed and a toilet- we’re not gonna tie you down... you can move around as you want-“  
  
“I bet it has a lock on it,” I say.  
  
“It does.” He affirms.  
  
“And cameras,” I say.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
I stare at him. “Can I just go to my other room?”  
  
“No.” He says. “You’ll go to this one. I’ll wake you up at 8 to go to the dentist.”  
  
“I don’t-“  
  
“This ain’t about what you want,” Logan says. “So don’t even start it.”  
  
I glare at him. “I can go to my other room- or I can leave,” I say.  
  
“I don’t do ultimatums,” Logan says.  
  
“Then I can leave,” I say, turning away from him.  
  
He grabs my shoulder and spins me around. “Who told you to get the hacksaw?” He asks.  
  
“I did.” I lie.  
  
“No, you didn’t.” He says. “Did the cat-“  
  
“Cats don’t talk!!!” I say for the millionth time.  
  
“Then it was the... man in the shadows?” Logan asks.  
  
I don’t know what to say.  
  
It was. How do they always know?  
  
I know, logically, that he doesn't mean me well.  
  
Neither does the cat.  
  
But the man in the shadows... that's so personal.  
  
"No," I say.  
  
"It was," Logan says. "And he scares you."  
  
"No-"  
  
"Why do you think the shadow man scares you so badly, Daken?" Logan asks.  
  
"He just does," I say quietly.  
  
"Any reason?" He asks.  
  
"Too many reasons," I admit.  
  
The room is tense again. For once, I know it's not me causing it.  
  
"Do you ever see the man in the shadow’s face?" Logan asks.  
  
"Sometimes. But it's black." I say.  
  
"Black as in dark-skinned or black as in completely shadowy black?"  
  
I look up at the ceiling. "Shadowy black," I say after a minute.  
  
"So you never see his face?"  
  
"Where are you going with this?" I ask in frustration. “If you haven’t figured it out by this point- I don’t really like talking about this.”  
  
"I'm trying to figure something out," Logan says. "You said something to the doctor at the hospital that no one understands."  
  
"I said a lot of things," I say, trying to redirect this conversation.  
  
"But this-this was alarming. To me- at any rate, because I knew what you were talking about."  
  
"Now I don't know what you're talking about," I say. "Can I go to bed?"  
  
He nods. "In a minute." He's quiet for a long moment. "You said 'he looks like him'."  
  
"Everyone looks like someone." I try to debuff his oncoming attack.  
  
“Daken... does the man look like him?”  
  
I freeze.  
  
We both know the 'him' he's referring to. The same 'him' I referred to in the hospital. The only 'him' whose name we don't like to say- even to each other.  
  
“Does the man look like-“  
  
“I heard you,” I say quietly.  
  
“Does he?” Logan presses.  
  
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling more distressed than I should.  
  
“Does he sound like him?” Logan asks.  
  
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling cornered.  
  
“You do know.” Logan insists. “Does he look or sound like Ro-“  
  
“I don’t know!” I yell.  
  
“I think he does,” Logan says. “And that’s why he scares you so badly. You’ve been taught to fear him. He-“  
  
“Is it that hard to believe that I’m just scared because he’s a shadow person who tells me to kill myself??”  
  
“Did Romulus ever tell you to hurt yourself?” Logan asks quietly.  
  
“I want to go to bed,” I say.  
  
“Did he ever make you hurt yourself?” He asks.  
  
“I want to go to bed,” I repeat.  
  
“Did he ever tell you to kill yourself?” He asks.  
  
“I want to go to bed!” I yell at him.  
  
“I’ll let you go to bed,” Logan says. “I will- just answer this for me- does the man in the shadows-“  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it!”  
  
Logan puts his hands up in a ‘chill out’ motion. “You don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have to talk about it.” He says. “Calm down.”  
  
Memories are flooding my mind. Everything he did to me. All of it. From age 11 to age 69. All of it. It’s almost enough to take my breath away. Is the man in the shadows.... is he... could he...  
  
“Easy,” Logan says. “Easy, son.”  
  
I came back to the present, eyes watery.  
  
“It’s okay.” Logan soothes. “It’s all okay.” He puts his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go to bed- okay?”  
  
I let him lead me to my bedroom.  
  
“I thought-“  
  
“You’re not gonna do anything tonight.” He says, taking me to my bed. He lets me go and goes to his room.  
  
Is that it? No more talking? No goodnight? No lecture?  
  
He comes back a few seconds later with a handful of pills and a glass of water. “Take these.” He says.  
  
My mind is still fifty miles away.  
  
“Take it.” He says gently. “It’ll help. At the very least- it will put you sleep. You need sleep.”  
  
I don’t fight him. I take the pills and chase them down with the water.  
  
“Good.” He soothes. “Lay down.”  
  
His questions- the Maybe revelations of what we’ve unearthed... they haunt me.  
  
“It’s okay,” he says, pulling the blankets up over me.  
  
“Are you tucking me in?” I try to sound catty but it fails.  
  
“Yea.” He says. “I guess I am.”  
  
“Doesn’t feel too awful,” I say.  
  
“I’m glad.” Logan smiles. “Get some sleep. I’m across the hall if you need anything.”  
  
I nod, rolling onto my side away from the door- or the space where the door would be. Logan walks to the doorway and turns the light off. “8 AM.” He says. “I’ll see you then.”  
  
I make a noise of affirmation.  
  
“Goodnight.” He says.  
  
“Goodnight,” I reply- though it shocks me.  
  
Sleep doesn’t take long. On these pills it never does.  
  
I feel more ready to give up today’s fights than ever before.  
  
That’s not saying I won’t pick them up tomorrow. I just... I’m tired. There’s no point fighting when I’m this tired.  
  
I let sleep crash over me in waves. This is better than fighting.  
  
For right, now, at any rate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can hit me up on tumblr if you want updates or want to talk about it. or what have you. Definitely hit me up if there is something tagged incorrectly. Once again, i beg you to tell ME if something is not tagged right. I promise I will fix it! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. The iceman, the fool, and the tired as fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter kinda came outta nowhere. My brain just went ‘boop here ya go’. 
> 
> So I’m sharing it it with y’all.  
> Maybe it was the ambien (okay it was probably the ambien- I am literally sedated so I can go to sleep at night. It makes me write/do weird things while I think I’m sleeping) BUT I think it turned out really well. Had to do a hell of a lot of editing- but it’s all good. 
> 
> This chapter talks about a weird sorta fucked up relationship. And then it has a special guest!  
> No real warnings. But if you see something that shoulda been tagged- let me know! 
> 
> This is way lighter than the other stuff. Thought I’d break up the doom and gloom with a little light. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment or a kudos or what have you to let me know how I’m doing! Comments really make my day!

The boy slept all night last night. I didn’t. I stayed up listening to him. He murmurs and whimpers in his sleep- I can only imagine what he’s dreaming. The murmuring was fine- everyone does that. But the whimpering was something I couldn’t get over. I kept checking on him- but he was fast asleep.    
  
I’m starting to think we need to be watching for some signs of PTSD. It would make sense that he’d have a touch of it. If not more than a touch.    
  
He needs more help than I could've imagined. I mean.. taking a hacksaw to your wrist? Even if you're a regenerator it’s something fucked up to do.   
  
That's a general rule of thumb. If it involves a saw and cutting through human flesh when it's not strictly for surgical reasons- it's fucked up.   
  
I startled him with that revelation last night. I could see it in his eyes. Romulus has more to do with this than I thought and Daken knows something we don’t. There’s no need pushing- I know he won’t cave and tell us. But the man in the shadows- I should have guessed that to begin with. It makes me think that Romulus knew about whatever this chemical is. Whatever it was- he either studied it or had it personally it put in poor Daken’s brain.   
  
He knew. I can’t get over that thought- he had to know. This had to have happened before.   
  
Laura said something about Daken saying ‘it was decided when he was 12’. That means this has happened before. That means he knew it was going to happen again.   
  
I hate the thought of my son sitting on the knowledge that he was on limited time before this whole ordeal would repeat itself. Before he was put back into this hellish situation.   
  
I was told that he ran out of money trying to get a telepath to redo what Romulus’s telepaths did.  The mental walls put up for his ‘protection’.    
  
It’s too cruel though. It would shut off half of his personality. Take him back to where he started when we first met.   
  
No one is willing to do that.   
  
It’s against every code of ethics ever written.   
  
Daken is willing to let all the progress he's made- all of it- go down the drain to get this to stop.   
  
I have no doubt the boy would do anything it took to be 'normal' again.   
  
This chemical- this mind changing whatever it is... it's not deadly in a physical sense but in every other way- it's poison.   
  
Introducing it to him- especially if it happened as young as he said it did- was evil.   
  
There was no limit to the man's cruelty. No step he wouldn't take to turn me into what he wanted me to be- he took my wife, he took my son, he took my family. And I couldn't do anything back then.   
  
I couldn't stop it.   
  
Romulus knew that. He made Daken with an expiration date. Making sure that Daken 1) couldn’t live without out him and 2) couldn’t be used by anyone else if he did manage to get away.   
  
It’s his final gift.   
  
The final twist of the knife.   
  
And the worst part- is that it’s because of me. Daken was marked from birth. Any child I had was.   
  
And I... I let Romulus have him.   
  
I pretty much delivered him right into the hands of the man who'd caused our family so much drama. So much pain. So much... just plain evil.

If the bastard was still alive- we’d be having words.   
  
He ain’t though. And I think Daken knows that more than anyone. News just surfaced about a funeral. His funeral. Daken was there.

Someone snapped his picture. 

He didn’t look good. I bet this mind-altering chemical had already started to kick in at that point. My bet is that it’s been happening over the last few months and he just tried to will it away.    
  
I can guess what was going on- that’s all well and good. What I want to know is why. Why was Daken there? He swore he hated Romulus for what the man did to his momma, for what he did to him... so why was he mourning him? Why was he at the grave of the man who went out of his way to destroy his mind, body, and soul?    
  
Why does the boy still love him? In a sense- that’s gotta be what this is. He literally cannot live without him.   
  
Romulus hits like a hurricane. In sense, Daken was exposed to category five wind damage literally his whole life. Since before he was born. 

It took his momma, it took his chance at normality, it took his childhood, it basically took his fucking mind. 

What chance did he really have at turning out normal?   
  
I said I wished he were- once upon a time.   
  
I was selfish. I didn’t understand. Up until the last few weeks- I can honestly say that I didn’t try to understand. Not really.    
  
Romulus probably had the only cure for this. The only way to help him. That seems like something he would hold over Daken's head to keep him in line.   
  
Probably why Daken was at the funeral to begin with.   
  
The fact that Romulus is dead probably helped send the boy over the edge. I’d imagine he would have at least tried to reach out for help as this was happening.   
  
Romulus would have turned him down- of course. I can see his smirk now, in my head. Words coming out like nails on a chalkboard. My boy wouldn’t have stood a chance. Romulus would have found a way to rope him back in, tightened that noose like he always did- slowly, steadily, snaking it around your trachea. There’s a great deal of violence that can be carried out in silence. He silenced my boy for years. Cut off his emotions. Warped his thoughts. Warped his beliefs. Just tightened and tightened his coils around him until all Daken had to breath was the oxygen he allowed him to have.    
  
And he knew. He had to know. Romulus knew he was doing this to the kid and did it anyway. How fucked up to do you have to be to go through with something like that?   
  
I can't wrap my head around it.   


It's carnage of the worst kind- because you can't see it. All the damage is a gaping wound in his mind- invisible to the naked eye without some kind of machine to test him.   
  
We're gonna have to get him tested every once and while- see if the mental decline gets worse. Up our ante or back off. Shit like that.   
  
My mind has been running through this shit all night.

My boy didn’t have a choice in all of this. He never did. 

Like me. 

Both of us shaped into a tool by someone else’s hand. 

The early morning light trickles in through the window. Guess I should at least think about getting up.   
  
The alarm clock by the bed reads 7:45. Damnit. I’ve literally been awake all night thinking.   
  
That's just perfect. No sleep for me and the kid got a full eight hours.   
  
There'll be a fight for everything today.   
  
Getting up? Fight. Eating breakfast? Fight. Going to the dentist? Downright world war three.   
  
And I got no sleep. World war three and I've got no sleep.   
  
I’m gonna be exhausted and I know the kid’s gonna put up a hell of a fuss today. After all- he got to sleep. He’ll be rested and ready to fight whatever we throw at him. And this morning? We’re gonna throw a lot at him.   
  
I can't let him get out of this- I can't. But I'm gonna have to be considerate of his mental state and moods. Kid doesn't want to go. It's probably scary for him.   
  
And to be honest- it would have been easier to let him take those pliers to his teeth.   
  
But we're doing everything by the book.   
  
Teeth problems? Dentist. Mental problems? Psychiatrist. Physical problems? Doctor.   
  
We're doing all of this as anyone else would do. Superpowers or not.   
  
I get out of bed, walking over to my black dresser and quickly pulling on clothes. I slept in actual clothes last night in case Daken needed me during the night. Usually I kinda just sleep naked. Doesn’t bother me any. Anyone coming into my room pretty much already knows what to expect. Didn’t want to shock the boy- however. He's got enough mental problems. Don't need 'saw my dad naked' to be added to the list.   
  
I pull on my boots, yawning and trying to focus, before heading to his room.   
  
The hallway outside is peaceful. I don't know where all the students are but... it's peaceful nonetheless.   
  
I go to his doorway and get ready for the fight about to come.   
  
I gotta stay firm but gentle at the same time.

It’s not really my strong suit. 

On the bed, he is the picture of undignified. Sprawled out face down on his mattress, blanket riding low on his back and shirt pulled up in the front from him tossing and turning, and his hair messed up in a million different directions. He got my bedhead gene, I see.   
  
I can see the swirls of his tattoo and kinda stare with interest. That thing needs to be redone at least every one or two years- I bet.   
  
That means eventually I'm gonna have to take him to get it redone.   
  
Meaning I'm gonna have to shell out money every few years for something I wouldn't have put on him, to begin with.   
  
Fuck me.   
  
Little things like that have been popping up in mind lately. It's really sinking in how serious this is. How much effort I'm gonna have to put into it.   
  
He tosses in his sleep, messing himself up even more.   
  
I almost want to take a picture. Almost.   
  
I walk over to his bed- standing there for a minute trying to think how to do this.   
  
Too hard- it'll spook him. Too gentle- he'll ignore me.   
  
“Kid.” I settle for the direct approach. A gentle direct approach but a direct approach.   
  
He murmurs something, turning his face to me while managing to stay on his stomach on the mattress.   
  
“Daken.” I try again. “It’s time to get up.”   
  
“You get up.” He says sleepily- not missing a single chance to fight me. He's already fighting and he’s not even fully awake.   
  
This bodes well for today.   
  
“Get up,” I say.   
  
“You get up.” He counters, still just as sleepily as before. His gray comforter set is all tangled up from his deep sleep last night. I heard him tossing and turning- but I didn't think it would be this bad.   
  
“I am up.” I laugh. “Now you get up.”   
  
“Come back in an hour.” He groans.   
  
“You gotta get up now,” I smile. “Not in an hour.”   
  
He groans, rolling on his side away from me. “Come back in an hour.” He says, pulling the blankets up to his face.   
  
“We need to be on the road in an hour,” I say.   
  
“Then we won’t go.” He argues, eyes still closed and voice still weakened from sleep.   
  
“We have to go,” I say, sitting on the bed and giving his shoulder a little shake.   
  
“Nooooooo.” He tries to push my hand away.   
  
“Daken, get up,” I say. “We got shit to do.”   
  
“You do shit.” Daken groans.   
  
This is... cute.... yea. That’s the word. This exchange is kinda cute. I didn’t think the boy could do ‘cute’.   
  
“We both need to do shit,” I say. “You gotta get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush your hair and teeth, get in the car, and get to the dentist.”   
  
“I'm not going to the dentist.” He argues, eyes still closed.   
  
“Daken-“   
  
“Not going.” He groans. “Just need... pliers.”   
  
“You’re not pulling your own teeth out and that’s the end of it,” I say dryly.   
  
He shakes his head- curling more into his pillows. Guess he likes the comforter set after all.   
  
“Need pliers.” He says.   
  
“You’re not getting pliers,” I say. “Get up.”   
  
“No.” He curls up tighter.   
  
Outside his room, I hear someone walking. A simple sniff and I have my idea.   
  
I go to the door and see Bobby looking like hell going down the hall. Kid must be tired. “Drake,” I say.   
  
He's dressed in his 'informal wear'. A ratty pair of shorts and jersey from some unknown sports league I know he never actually participated in.   
  
We've begged to wear more decent things- but Nah. Bobby is a man of his own style. Marches to the beat of his own drummer- that kind of shit.   
  
A definition for- can't tell him a damn thing.   
  
To be honest- I've caught his scent a lot in this hall yesterday and last night.   
  
His room's not over on this side of the house. Kitty's is- he might have been going to see her- but Kitty's out like a light by 10. Bobby's scent was out here at 12 last night. Like he was pacing or hovering. It didn't make any sense.

Drake always looks young- has since I met him. Passed the ‘unsure if we should ID him for beer’ stage- but not far past it. Dude looked like a teenager until he was about 24. He’s 29 now. Hasn’t really changed much from the 16-year old I meet all those years ago. Besides the whole ‘omega level powered, gay, teaching kids’ part of his life. Those are all new things.

He looks at me. “What’s up?” He asks cheerfully.   
  
A little too cheerfully.   
  
Drake is setting off alarms in my head but I can't figure out why or what alarms those are.   
  
“Where are you going this morning?” I ask.   
  
“Right now? Breakfast. I'm a little late.” He smiles.   
  
'A little late' my ass. Someone's probably having to cover for him right now.   
  
Knowing my friends- I'm betting that someone is Ro. In which case she'll be pissed as hell later. May lead to something awesome as far as sex goes. It's fun to fuck when she's emotional- even if it's me causing it- because the weather is responding. You can kinda tell how good you're doing based on that. Ripping hurricane winds in Manchester at three in the morning is hard to explain. Not that I would if I could. Leave a little mystery to it. No damage was done.   
  
“Can you give me a hand?” I ask.   
  
“Sure.” He says. “What do you need?”   
  
I motion back to the bed. “Need you to freeze Daken’s sheets,” I say.   
  
Bobby raises an eyebrow. “You need me to what?”   
  
“Freeze his sheets,” I repeat. “He won’t get up. We gotta get moving.”   
  
"And you want me to freeze his sheets... with him still in them?" Bobby asks.   
  
"Yes," I confirm. "Just to get him out of bed. We really gotta get this show on the road."   
  
Bobby hesitates for a long minute. “And his claws are contained?” He asks.   
  
“Yep.” I nod.   
  
“And... his other powers?”   
  
“All blocked,” I assure him. “I promise, you won’t get hurt.”   
  
He nods. “Sure. I’ll do it.”   
  
“Thanks.” I usher him into the room. “Daken... Bobby’s gonna freeze the sheets if you don’t get up.” I threaten.   
  
“Noooo.” He growls.   
  
“He’s right here.” I threaten.   
  
“He doesn’t have the balls,” Daken says sleepily.   
  
“Hey!” Bobby grouses. “That’s not very nice!”   
  
Daken chuckles to himself.   
  
“I’m serious, son,” I warn. “He’s gonna freeze those sheets. It’s gonna be real cold.”   
  
“Try it.” He says, eyes still closed.   
  
I nod to Bobby. “You heard him.”   
  
Bobby walks over to the bed.   
  
Daken turns on his side and opens his eyes and I see Bobby kinda hesitate.   
  
“Please don’t,” Daken asks, almost sweetly. He's giving him a look that his momma used to give me. It's so odd to see it on his face. Sweet- innocent. A 'do this for me please' look. Usually when Itsu wanted something out of me that I wasn't ready to give. Like money. Or a certain food while she was pregnant. Something like that.   
  
If Bobby doesn't get a hell of a backbone- this is gonna be pointless.   
  
“Uh... your dad,” Bobby points over his shoulder, “Wants you to get up.” He says. "Would you please get up? I don't want to freeze you out of bed." There's a tone there that I don't recognize.   
  
“He’s trying to make go somewhere I don’t want to go,” Daken says. “Please don’t help him.”   
  
Bobby turns and looks at me- lost   
  
“Don’t let him sweet talk you, Bobby,” I say. “He’s gotta get up.”   
  
“Please don’t,” Daken says. "Don't freeze me, Bobby. Please?"   
  
“Bobby- do not let him sweet talk you,” I say. “He’ll do anything to get out of this.”   
  
Bobby nods, putting his hand on the sheets. “I’m sorry, Daken.” He says as ice spreads over to the whole comforter set.   
  
Daken shakes his head several times, pulling the pillows over it.   
  
“You gonna stay in a frozen bed?” I ask.   
  
“Bastard.” He growls, throwing off the now stiff blankets and getting to his feet.   
  
“Thanks, Bobby,” I say, nodding to him.   
  
He looks at Daken for another minute. “I’m really sorry.” He says. “But... between going against you and your dad... I’d rather not go against your dad.” He smiles.   
  
Daken, unexpectedly, returns his smile. “I get it.” He says. “He’s a fucking bastard.”   
  
“Wouldn’t go that far.” Bobby chuckles. "But yea. Frozen sheets is a little extreme."   
  
What the fuck is going on here?   
  
“I would,” Daken says, stretching. I see Bobby stare a little too long. "What're you doing up so early?" Daken asks pleasantly.   
  
"Actually running late." Bobby grins.   
  
"You do seem to prefer your own time schedules," Daken says.   
  
"You're one to talk." Bobby laughs.   
  
"I'm always on time," Daken says. "My time."   
  
"Yea well the rest of the world doesn't run of 'Daken time'." Bobby laughs again.   
  
It's like watching some kind of chick flick.   
  
I’m...   
  
Oh fuck. They’re flirting! Drake is flirting with my son- right in front of me!   
  
"They should," Daken says, grinning. "You'd get more sleep that way. You look like shit."   
  
"Ouch," Bobby says, putting his hand over his chest. "You can tell I haven't been sleeping?".   
  
Uh.. yea. We all can.   
  
This has gone on waaaay too long.   
  
“Uh... Bobby..?” I’m kinda unsure of how to proceed. “He’s gotta get dressed now,” I say. "Ya know- get moving and all that?"   
  
“Right!” Bobby says quickly. “Right.”   
  
“You could stay,” Daken says innocently. "Help me dress?"   
  
“No, he can’t,” I growl. “Thanks for the help,” I tell Bobby. “Now leave, please.” I add the 'please' so I don't sound too harsh. I don't want him to think this is a homophobic thing. No. This is 'that's my kid and I'm responsible for him' thing. I don't care that they're both guys. I'm treating Daken just like I would with any of my other kids. Only he's sick instead of young.   
  
The girls needed to be looked after because of their ages. Daken needs it because his brain is turning to mush.   
  
"Right uh... I'm gonna.. go." He says to Daken. "Sorry about the sheets. Those will thaw out in no time- I just barely frosted them."   
  
Daken nods. "Good to know."   
  
The two of them stay silent for a moment.   
  
I can almost feel something in the air.   
  
Fuck.   
  
"Uh... Bobby..?" I say.   
  
"Yea?"   
  
"Leave."   
  
"Oh! Right- right." Bobby nods. “See ya later, Daken!” He says. “Gimme a text if you need anything! Or ya know- I'll text you? Something like that.”   
  
"I'll let you know," Daken says, smiling as Bobby leaves.   
  
When he's out of earshot- I’m left staring at my son. "What was that about?"   
  
"What was what about?" He asks.   
  
"That thing you just did with Drake."   
  
"I don't know what you're talking about." He says.   
  
"I know what I saw, son," I say.   
  
What exactly did I see?   
  
If I didn't know any better- I'd say Bobby was flirting/making moves on my son. In front of me.   
  
I don't mind that the kid's gay. Each their own. That kind of shit.   
  
I do mind if it involves my kid.   
  
My sick kid.   
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Daken repeats.   
  
“Why does he have your number?” I ask- trying a different approach.   
  
Daken shrugs.   
  
"Why do you have his number?" I ask.   
  
"I have everyone's number," Daken says cryptically.   
  
“Right," I say. "And why did you offer to let him watch you undress?”   
  
He shrugs again.   
  
“Let me make this clear,“ I say. “You are not in the right mental state for a booty call. Got it?”   
  
Daken groans. “Please never say those words again.”   
  
"You're not well enough to make that kind of decision," I say. "You can't give consent in your state."   
  
"Spare me." He says.   
  
"You're not," I say. "And you're not having sex under my roof."   
  
Daken glares at me. "Well, golly gee father. I didn't know we were in the 50's again!"   
  
"That's not a 50's thing," I growl. "That's an 'all ages' thing. You're not fucking under my roof."   
  
"Then I'll do it outside," he says pleasantly.   
  
"Try it," I say. "I'll turn the sprinklers on ya."   
  
Daken crosses his arms. "I'll go to a motel." He says.   
  
"You gonna walk?" I ask smugly.   
  
"I might," Daken says cattily.   
  
I have to smirk. “Get dressed," I say, ending the argument. "Downstairs- ten minutes.”   
  
“I’ll take twenty minutes and I’ll meet you outside,” Daken says.   
  
“Dressed, downstairs, ten minutes,” I repeat. “Do not make me come back in here and dress you.”   
  
Daken mumbles something under his breath along the lines of ‘fucker’ or some sort of word.   
  
He can think that if he wants. No one is stopping him.   
  
"Ten minutes," I repeat.   
  
"I heard you the first time," he growls.   
  
"Just making sure," I say. "No following cats, no talking to shadow people, no doing what you're told by imaginary people. Got it?"   
  
He glares at me.   
  
I sigh. "Just.. don't follow the cat... okay? Stay here. Stay put. Get dressed. No cat- got me? No. Cat."   
  
He exhales. "Fine. I understand."   
  
"Ten minutes." I remind him.   
  
"I got it!" He yells, suddenly.   
  
"Watch the tone," I say in a growl.   
  
He smirks at me with nothing but malice. "Yes, father." He says.   
  
Not gonna address that right now.   
  
I nod to him and leave his room, heading downstairs to pick up something to eat. Or in the very least- some coffee. If Kitty’s teaching today- I know there’s bound to be some in the kitchen- the kitchen which we’ve had to patch back together in light of Daken’s last episode.  Which was a bitch- as I’m sure he intended it to be.    
  
In the kitchen, I run into Bobby again.   
  
It’s a little... awkward?   
  
“Drake,” I say, pouring myself a cup of coffee.   
  
He looks up from his cereal bowl at the table. "Get him dressed?"   
  
"I hope so," I say, drinking some of the hot coffee in one of the many mismatched mugs we have situated on the counter by the coffee maker.   
  
"That's good," Bobby says. "Didn't seem like he was in too bad of a mood."   
  
I nod.   
  
We go silent for a moment.   
  
“Bobby.." I finally say, "Why does Daken have your number?”   
  
Bobby stares at me like a deer in the headlights.   
  
"Well?" I press.   
  
“We uh... well,” Bobby rubs the back of his head. “We hang out from time to time.” He says.   
  
“Friendly hang out or ‘hangout’ hangout?” I ask.   
  
Bobby looks down at his cereal. “I mean... define ‘friendly’.” He says, trying to chuckle but coming off awkward.   
  
"And was that flirting in the room?" I ask.   
  
"What?" His voice goes a little higher.   
  
"Were you flirting with my kid?" I repeat, slowly.   
  
He stares at me for a long moment. "Yea." He says finally. "Yea- I was."   
  
I nod. “Gonna tell you what I told him,” I say. “Daken is in no way sane enough to consent to anything romantic or sexual. Got me? He literally cannot do something as emotionally and physically draining as having a sexual relationship. I don't know how long it's gonna be like that but for right now that's how it's gotta be. Okay?"   
  
Bobby is quiet. “I understand,” he says, “I do. But don’t you think Daken should be able to make that call for himself? He’s an adult. An adult male. He’s gonna want some company every now and then...” He winces. “Right?”   
  
“No. Not right. Wrong. Very wrong.” I say. “The kid is hearing shadow people and seeing figments of his imagination. What part of that sentence makes you think he’s stable enough for sex?”   
  
Bobby shakes his head. “God Logan.” He says. “Not everything romantic leads to sex- you know that right?”   
  
“With him-“   
  
“He likes sex every once and while,” Bobby says. “But not all the time. His sex drive is completely normal.”   
  
“Ugh. Spare me.” I say.   
  
“It is. He’s not a sex addict. He doesn’t want it 24/7. And he’s perfectly capable of having romantic encounters that don’t lead to sex. Maybe he just wants to go out on a date sometime. Spend some time with someone outside of his family. Stuff like that. Ya know?”   
  
"And you know all of this because..." I prompt him.   
  
"Because I do," Bobby says defensively.   
  
"Because you do," I repeat. "You know about my son's sexual habits because you do. No other reason. It's just something you know off the top of your head."   
  
"What do you want me to say?" He asks.   
  
"That you're not going to fuck my kid," I say.   
  
"God Logan," He says.   
  
"Tell me you won't fuck him," I order.   
  
"I won't fuck him," Bobby says quickly. "But I do like hanging out with him. It doesn't have to lead to fucking. Maybe just take him out sometime. Give him some sort of break from this place."   
  
Hmm. Interesting. “You’re telling me that if the two of you got ‘romantic’” I try not to dry heave at the words coming out of my mouth, “you wouldn’t want sex.” I stare him over. “Really. You wouldn’t pressure him for sex.”   
  
“I mean... yea,” Bobby says. “Daken and I hang out frequently. It doesn't always lead to sex.”   
  
“Since when?” I ask.   
  
“Since before you came back?” He says. “He didn’t want me to tell you.”   
  
"Did you tell anyone else?" I ask.   
  
Bobby shakes his head.   
  
"No one?" I pressure him.   
  
"No one, Logan. I swear. We met at the park, we went to the movies, we went shopping, we had a few dinners together, and yes we had sex a few times but we can do all of that stuff without having sex." He says quickly- in one breath.   
  
“And you're capable of just..... hanging out,” I say. “You don’t have to fuck. You don’t have to do anything sexual. You just hang out.”   
  
“I mean... we’ve had sex before,” Bobby says awkwardly. “But never when he wasn’t feeling well or didn’t want to.”   
  
I stare at him for a long minute. “I can’t wrap my mind around it,” I admit, taking a gulp of coffee. "He flirted with you. Not mean. Not overtly sexual. He... he just flirted. Like he liked you." I'm thinking out loud.   
  
“I like Daken,” Bobby says with a smile. “Most of the time.”   
  
“Then why did you ask about his powers being contained?” I press.   
  
“Because I know from experience that waking Daken up never goes well.” Bobby laughs. "I've got a few scars to prove it."   
  
“He seemed to not mind you.” I take more coffee, thinking.   
  
Bobby likes Daken. Daken seems like Bobby. If I put Bobby over Daken- he'd be safe and cared for and I'd be free to do more shit.   
  
“When he’s not in one of his moods- we’re pretty close, actually,” Bobby says. “I thought it was cool that you were bringing him here.”   
  
He's calmer with Bobby in the last ten minutes that he has been with anyone since he got here.   
  
Maybe... this is something I can use to my advantage?   
  
If Bobby promises not to be sexual... would it be so bad for Daken to go out with him from time to time? Get some attention that isn't from people related to him?   
  
“I...” I can’t think of what to say out loud. “You calm him down.”I settle for. “He didn’t fight you.”   
  
“Well, yea,” Bobby says. "Most of the times we don't really fight. He's a little moody but if you try to figure out why he's doing what he does..." He trails off.   
  
I nod. “So... if you were to get ‘romantic’ with him- it would ease his mind,” I say. “Make him behave more.”   
  
This is coming out wrong. I can feel it coming out wrong and I don't know how to change to something right.   
  
Bobby stares at me. “What are you trying to say?” He asks.   
  
“Just that if you were to get ‘romantic’ but not have sex- Daken’s time would be more occupied,” I say. “He wouldn’t fight living here as hard.”   
  
“I’m not dating him so you can control him,” Bobby says heatedly. “If that’s what you’re asking.”   
  
“That is what I'm asking,” I say. “That’s exactly what I'm asking. Think of how safe he would be if he had someone to confide in. Someone to-“   
  
“Don’t pimp your son out to your friends so you can control him.” Bobby gets up and takes his bowl to the sink. “That’s really shitty Logan.” He says. “I mean- your hearts in the right place... but the execution is just a little fucked up.” He pauses. "IF I did date him IF I did- it wouldn't be because you asked me to." he nods to me and leaves the kitchen.   
  
Damn.   
  
I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I didn't.   
  
I just... something needs to make the boy happy. Something needs to give him the drive to behave while he's here.   
  
If it's a strictly romantic relationship- it could go well for him.   
  
Hell, he might even feel 'loved' for once in his life.   
  
It's not a bad plan.   
  
... The wording just came out fucked up.   
  
I'll have to go tell Bobby that that's not what I really meant. Try to explain it some more. See if he'll reconsider.   
  
“I’d date junior.” I actually jump when I hear this voice.   
  
“Damn it, Wilson!” I growl. “I told you not to come here anymore!”   
  
Wade sits at our table in full costume, feet propped on top of it, sipping a glass of orange juice. His mask is rolled up part way on his face, showing his scarred flesh. Really pretty sight Wade is in the morning. “What? You need help.”   
  
Wade has a habit of somehow showing up where I am. It's like he's got a sixth sense or something.   
  
I can't imagine what he's doing here... but if he's offering his romantic services- man's barking up the wrong tree. I'd rather see Daken alone and miserable for the rest of his life than see him with Wilson.   
  
“You’re not coming within ten feet of my kid.”   
  
He picks up a newspaper and turns it to the funnies. “Suit yourself.” He says.   
  
“Get out of my school,” I growl. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”   
  
“I wanted to come to you about a job,” Wade says.   
  
“Job?” I ask suspiciously. “What job?”   
  
“Nanny,” Wade says.   
  
“Nanny?” I ask in disbelief. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. Get out of here!”   
  
“Nanny,” Wade repeats. “Hear me out! No stabby stabby.”   
  
“This oughta be good,” I smirk, leaning on the counter.   
  
“Right. I have a whole presentation worked out.” Wade says, putting the paper down and standing up, pulling a few pages of crumpled up paper out of his pocket. “Handouts.” He walks over and passes them to me.   
  
On the paper are crudely drawn images that have him, in his red suit, doing household things.   
  
“Thank you for coming to this meeting, good sir and future employer.” He says.   
  
“You broke into my house.” I correct him. “And I’m not hiring you for shit.”   
  
“In this presentation,” He walks to the center of the room. “I shall prove to you why I am the best choice for the job.”   
  
“There is no job.” I correct him.   
  
“There isn't a job yet. But with my mutant power of persuasion-“   
  
“Since when do you have the ‘power of persuasion’?” I ask.   
  
“Since ever. I just don’t use for the power is too great!” He cries, hands balling up and face turned to the ceiling. “The good lord almighty has blessed me with this curse,” He says in a horrible southern accent, “And today- I intend to unleash it on a more meaningful level!”   
  
I inhale slowly and let it out. “What are you talking about?”   
  
“The job of nanny.” He says in his regular voice. “Now nannies have been used through the ages to watch children.”   
  
I can vaguely see where he’s going with this.   
  
“While their rich parents went off to do rich parent things. If you hired me to watch YOUR child- You could go do rich parent things.”   
  
“No thanks. Gabby is well looked after by her sister.” I say, hoping to end his sales pitch.   
  
“Not Gabby!” Wade chuckles. “Oh no no no. The youngest wolverine cub needs no watching. That kid's going to great places!”   
  
“It scares me when you say that,” I say dryly.   
  
He shrugs. “I’m talking about the eldest wolverine cub. Ya know,” he whispers. “The one that’s going... cuckoo?” He makes a circular motion around his ear. The sign for ‘crazy’. A crude sign at that.   
  
“And you would know about going ‘cuckoo’,” I smirk. “Wouldn’t you, Wilson?”   
  
“Exactly!” he says. “So I’m the best man for the job! I’ll feed him and medicate him and take him on walks and make sure he naps, and-“   
  
“He’s not a child, Wade,” I say bluntly. “He doesn’t need a nanny.”   
  
“Weren’t you just asking popsicle to watch him through means of romantic trickery?” He asks.   
  
Fuck. “That’s different,” I say.   
  
“How?” He asks. “How is it different?”   
  
“For starters, I wouldn’t have to pay him,” I say smugly.   
  
“Hmm. My starting rate is 50 dollars an hour. Admit it- that’s a good deal.”   
  
I shake my head. “You’re not watching my kid, Wilson,” I say. “That’s final. Now get out of here before I put a claw through that pitiful excuse of an organ you call a brain.”   
  
“Fine fine- I’ll let you sleep on it,” Wade says. “But! If you decide to do what’s best for your poor son- give me a call.” He passes me a small paper card.   
  
“This is a card from a car salesman,” I say, looking at it. One 'Jarard Winston'. Wonder how Wade got his cards. He doesn't seem the dealership type.

A more pressing worry is what happened to the man that left Wade in possession of all of his cards.    
  
“Right. Wait a second.” He takes it back, pulls a crayon out of some unknown pocket, and scribbles his name right over the other man's name before scratching out the man’s number and placing his own. “Good to go!” He hands it back to me. "Wade Wilson. Professional insanity tamer. At your service."   
  
“Crayon.” I shake my head. “How professional. Now get the hell out of my school before I stab you.”   
  
“Thank you for your time today good sir,” Wade says. “And should you decide to make the right choice- I am but one phone call away.”   
  
“Got it. Now leave.” I order.   
  
He holds up his hands. “I’m going, I’m going.” He says.   
  
I walk behind him to the front door to make sure he leaves.   
  
Daken is standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching with a little interest.   
  
He made it down in fifteen minutes. Not ten- but not twenty. We're getting somewhere with this.   
  
“Hey junior!” Wade calls walking by him. “Sorry to hear about your brain!” He exits the school and goes back to wherever it is that he calls home.   
  
Daken stares at me. “What was that about?”   
  
“Nothing,” I say. “Just Wade being... Well... Wade.”   
  
He nods. "Annoying fucker."   
  
"Yep." I laugh. "That's Wilson."   
  
"So what- were you made in the same batch?" He asks.   
  
"Batch?"   
  
He nods. "You weapon x's- all made at the same time... different times...what?"   
  
"Nah. There were about three men who I was with- that I can remember. The others, like Wilson, came after we were already gone."   
  
Daken nods. "Should have put him down when they had the chance."   
  
"Woulda did the world a favor," I smirk, looking him over. Black Shirt and blue basketball shorts- check. But no... socks or shoes. “You got shoes?” I ask.   
  
“No.” He says.   
  
“Let’s go find you a pair,” I say. “Bobby should be about your size.”

If Bobby will cooperate. If not, he'll have to go barefooted.   
  
Which is fine by me. He might not like it- but it's not like he can really do any damage to his feet.   
  
He nods. “Fine by me.”   
  
I walk to the stairs and take him by the shoulder. “Let’s go.”   
  
He shrugs me off. “Don’t touch me.” He says.   
  
I sigh. “I got it. Just walk where I tell you to walk- okay?”   
  
“Fine.” He says, rolling his eyes.   
  
Boy’s putting up way less of a fight than I thought he would.   
  
I pocket ‘Wade’s’ card and make my way to Bobby’s room.   
  
We got a long way to go today. And it’s already off to a weird start.   
  
Hopefully- it’s only up from here.   
  
Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can hit me up on tumblr. I’ll gladly talk about this story and the others that I’m working on to literally anyone who will listen. 
> 
> Also, it’s a good place to tell me if I missed something tagging wise.  
> As always, I plead with you to let me know if something is mistagged. I promise I will fix it postehaste. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I know these updates are coming out super fast. Thanks for keeping up with me!


	12. Fools, take overs, and the gifting of teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talks about taking drugs. And mentions unwanted medical care.  
> I have weird ponderings about healing factors and teeth- but I left most of the weird stuff out in favor of not sounding like an insane person. :) (that's hard for me to do sometimes!) 
> 
> This chapter is kinda light/kinda sad. It's kinda gonna rotate between the two. It's firmly a 'drama'. Psychological drama at that. So read with caution! 
> 
> I can tell you that the next chapter starts out kind heavy but will dissolve into pure silliness.  
> I'll let y'all imagine what that's about! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave me a comment or a kudos or what have you.

  
  


Our dinner with Logan and Daken did not go well. Not that I thought it would.I knew it was going to go off the rails from the moment we hit the door.When Daken took off like that- we immediately knew something was wrong.   
  
With his mind- it’s hard to tell sometimes, though.

Sometimes he just has to get up and leave- he’s always been like that. Since the very first day I met him. It’s not unusual to see him in a huff of some sort. That part on its own is not shocking. It’s literally all of his actions leading up to that part. I’ve never seen him so… out of sorts. Yes, that’s the nice way of putting it.

Granted his interactions with Logan usually end badly- they just seem to be ending worse and worse here lately.    
  
Gabby was more nervous than I was. I knew, deep down, that Logan would stop him from doing whatever it is he was going to do. Something that I'm sure was painful and self-destructive without a shadow of doubt in my mind.   
  
Logan told me and Gabby to go home and that he would handle it two minutes after Daken left the dining room. He was on his phone keeping tabs on our brother. Apparently the whole team was looking out for him. Apparently. I don’t know how much truth was involved in that or if it’s an exaggeration. It’s hard to tell with Logan sometimes. 

However, when he told us to leave, I tried to take it at face value. Logan wouldn’t lie to us about something involving Daken’s care- I’m sure of it. Seeing as we could do nothing to help the situation and I didn’t want to make it worse- I took him at his word and took Gabby home.

Ororo called a little later in the night and said everything had worked out. Explained the missing pliers and the hacksaw. I was left speechless. What on earth could have prompted him to do such a thing?   
  
I took the call in the living room so Gabby wouldn’t hear as much.   
  
Though I want to involve her- I really do-I don’t think she needs to know all the messy details.   
  
Not that it would matter much to her. But given her take on the situation last night- I know she wouldn’t fully understand just yet. She knows that he’s our brother and he wants things done a certain way to give him a sense of freedom. As a child, a young teenager at that, she also experiences several emotions along those lines. She wants to help him but doesn’t understand that this is for the greater good- no matter how many times we explain it. 

So last night I let her sleep- unbothered by this news. 

We got up early this morning in the hopes that I would get some decent coffee down the street from our apartment. What we got? Was anything but.   
  
The coffee shop by all intents and purposes is high scale.   
  
Much better than your average Starbucks on any given day.    
  
I don't remember exactly who turned me onto expensive coffee- but I do not thank them for it.   
  
The store is well lit and spacious with multiple levels of seating including two outside patios. The walls are all done in a calming tan, the tables are polished and shiny, and the smell of fresh ground coffee and hot steam lingers in the air.

If I were to pick a ‘happy place’ this would be pretty high up on the list.

It’s expensive so we don’t do this often. But about once a month we manage a trip here. Usually with a book or a tablet to enjoy the scenery outside of our apartment and the bustle of something in the city.    
  
It's usually pretty busy this time of day- early in the morning, that is.   
  
Gabby and I couldn't sleep.   
  
She usually has no problem staying in bed- but she was at my door at six this morning.   
  
She wants to know he's okay and I get that.   
  
But... he isn't. I don't know what to tell her.   
  
I mean logically she knows he's sick... she knows he's probably going to get worse and she's seen him up close and personal.   
  
So... why am I still trying to shield her from it?   
  
There's going to come a day that it hits us all glaringly in the face. That day may very well be sooner than we think. I feel like it's my duty, as her older sister, to prepare her for that.   
  
I don't know how to treat this though.Everyone else seems to talk about it like it's some kind of cancer.   
  
But physically- Daken's fine. He's not sick. He's not ill. He's not weakened in any sense of the word.   
  
Mentally? He gets worse and worse by the day.   
  
The mental decline is hard to watch. The only medical condition I can really compare it to is Alzheimer's.   
  
Slowly fading into madness. He's got no choice in the matter.   
  
As I said- it's hard to watch. Especially having known him beforehand.

We decided to move our monthly coffee trip up this month in light of everything that’s happened. We could use a little break from the worry and the stress. Gabby seems to have really settled down. At least when we first got here she was.    
  
This morning, our coffee was interrupted by a very familiar face. A very familiar face that I wanted nothing to do with.

It's made the whole experience sour for me.

I hate that the clown has ruined my good morning when I so desperately needed it. 

“So you see,” the masked menace in front of me says to my little sister, “I’m the best man for the job!”   
  
Gabby smiles wide. “I think so too!” She says "Wouldn't he be good at it, Laura?"   
  
"No," I say flatly, trying to focus more on my rapidly cooling coffee and less on Deadpool.    
  
"He would!" Gabby says. "Wade's good people! I know it!"   
  
Deadpool nods, motioning to my little sister. “See, Ms. Stabby? Gabby agrees. And you know the girl has a very refined taste in people.”   
  
“Deadpool, we would not let you near Daken even if you paid  _ us, _ ” I say dryly.   
  
Deadpool shakes his head. “No- you’re not listening.” He says. “I know crazy. I know how much that sucks. Do you know how alone your brother is right now?? Surrounded by sane people??? It fucking sucks!” He leans back in his chair. “You gonna finish that?” He points to the scone in front of me.   
  
“Take it,” I say with a sigh.

There is no salvaging this morning outing. 

I’d be a fool to think otherwise. 

He nods. “Thanks!”   
  
He rolls up his mask part way, showing off his extremely scarred skin.   
  
A weaker person might be repulsed. As is- I'm far more repulsed by his behavior than his appearance.   
  
“Laura, Wade would be an excellent babysitter,” Gabby says, crossing her arms. "And you know it."   
  
“Nanny.” He corrects with a full mouth.   
  
“Nanny,” Gabby repeats. "He'd be an excellent nanny! And we could hang out more! How awesome would that be??"   
  
"Not awesome at all.” I say, sounding cold and detached from the idea.   
  
"I would be very good at it," Wade says. "I have a presentation-"   
  
"He has a presentation!" Gabby motions to him with both hands. "A presentation- Laura! Like on paper!"   
  
He pulls out his 'handouts'.   
  
"Deadpool, that is a torn up coloring book page," I say, unamused.   
  
"Uh, yea. Because I was watching a kid and couldn't find time to write it down on big boy paper. See? I'm already good at the job and you haven't even hired me yet!"   
  
"Who would let you near their child??" I ask in disbelief.   
  
"The 'who's' not important," he says. "The outcome is important." He bites more of the scone.   
  
"Yea- it's the outcome that counts!" Gabby says.

I surrender to the idea of actually listening to him. “And what outcome would that be?” 

"The outcome Ms. Wolvie, is that your families little 'problem' gets a whole lot easier." His mouth is still insanely full. It's like he's some sort of demented chipmunk. The image is going to be hard to get out of my head.   
  
"See? He just wants to help!" Gabby has been his hype man this whole time. It's really ridiculous.   
  
“I have a feeling he’s already run this by Logan,” I say. “And I have an even stronger feeling that Logan has turned him down.”   
  
“That’s where you come in!” Wade's mouth is still full and crumbs are going everywhere. He swallows his food and pulls his mask back down. “You tell your dad that I’m the best man for the job, bada-bing bada-boom I’m in work. Daken will be very well cared for,” he says sincerely. “No one does care like me.”   
  
“And how would you care for him exactly?” I ask. I have a morbid curiosity when it comes to Deadpool. As does anyone who spends prolonged time around him, I think.   
  
“Well... ya know,” Wade says. “Feed him, medicate him, take him for long walks-“   
  
“He’s not a dog, Wade,” I cut him off. A have mental image of him trying to leash my brother- it’s hard to keep from smirking.    
  
“No- but exercise is good for a healthy mind.” He smiles.   
  
“I don’t think we’ll be needing your services.” I take a sip of the now cold coffee in front of me.

Its bitterness still balanced well with the sweetness of the sugar and the creamer . If I wanted this interaction to go on as long as it has, I would have ordered iced coffee. Deadpool makes it hard to think sometimes- even harder to finish consuming my drink when it’s hot. 

“But you do!” He says. “Your brother needs someone to look after him while papa is away.”   
  
“Please don’t call Logan ‘papa’ ever again.” I grimace. “I do not like it.”   
  
“Well, Papa Wolverine Cub number Two- you don’t get a say in that. What you do get a say in is talking to your old man,” Deadpool says, tenting his fingers in front of him, looking very comfortable for someone who’s literally invited himself to our table. 

I don’t even want to know how he found us here. In fact- I’d rather think about literally anything else.    
  
“Hear him out!” Gabby says. “It can’t hurt- right?”   
  
“Exactly!” Wade points to her. “It can’t hurt.”   
  
“Gabby…. Don’t encourage him.” I hiss   
  
“Wolverine Cub number 1 is going insane. No way to get around that. It’s a sucky situation all around. My heart goes out to you and yours during this trying time.” Deadpool says, actually sounding somewhat sincere. “I can offer some help. I know about insanity. Really. I’m the best man for this job.”   
  
“How did you even hear about this?” I ask.   
  
Wade shrugs. “Through the grapevine.”   
  
That sounds.. concerning.   
  
“Who else knows?” I ask.   
  
“Everyone,” Wade says. “Creed, Bullseye, Osborn, Mystique-“   
  
“How do all of these people know?” I ask in shock.   
  
“Your brother wasn’t exactly discreet when he was on his own,” Wade says.   
  
“What do you mean?” I press.

It’s not like Daken to let so many people know something so personal. 

“I mean that he had some loose lips,” Wade says with a nod.   
  
“Why are his lips loose?” Gabby asks curiously. “Daken’s always been really great at keeping secrets.”   
  
“He did a lot of drugs,” Wad whispers loudly. “Drugs make you say some weird things.”   
  
“God.” I hiss.   
  
“What? Better me offering my help than someone else- right?” He laughs. “Can you imagine Sabertooth showing up at your home to try and make amends?”   
  
“No...”   
  
“I didn’t think so.” He says, like that proves some kind of point.   
  
“So if all these people know...” Gabby says. “Does that mean Daken isn’t safe?”   
  
“With papa wolverine, he’s a safe as he’s going to get,” Wade says. “I promise, squirt. I just want to help keep him safe.”   
  
“Why?” I ask.   
  
He rubs his thumb and his forefinger together. “Moola.” He says. “I tell your old man who all is looking into your brother and BAM I got a job. We don’t want to see poor sick Daken get used- do we?”

That? That sounds like a threat. And he’s not going to sit here and threaten my family. Not now- not ever. 

“Get out of here, Wade,” I growl.   
  
He holds his hands up. “Back down.” He says. “Back down, back down. I’m not threatening anyone.”   
  
“I’d be stupid to believe that.” I eye him closely. He shows no sign of attack.   
  
He nods. “Okay, okay, okay. I did threaten the waiter. But not you! I’m the good guy here!”

He admits to threatening an innocent waiter- and then claims he’s a good guy. This is Deadpool logic at its finest. The man is truly insane.    
  
“Is that why he hasn’t brought me my cookie?” Gabby asks.   
  
“Probably,” Wade says with a shrug. “Sorry ‘bout it pipsqueak. Desperate times call for threatening waiters.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”    
  
This whole thing is ridiculous. “You’re not watching Daken,” I say. “If we need to hire someone, we’ll hire a professional.”   
  
“And what professional is going to keep a secret that it’s Wolverine's son they’re watching?” Wade asks patiently. “He’ll be the talk of the town!”   
  
“I thought he already was,” I say suspiciously.   
  
“That’s among my circles.” He says. “You don’t want him to get among your circles or the press’s circles.”   
  
“That’s a lot of circles,” Gabby whispers.   
  
“It’s like a fucked up Venn diagram,” Wade says. 

This is concerning. If Daken’s plight is known to so many then there’s no telling who could show up and try to take him. Or try to convince him to willingly go with them. In his current state, he’d be willing to go with any of those people Wade listed- just to get away from Logan. 

“If I say I’ll talk to Logan about it- will you leave?” I ask, looking over my shoulder to see a very distressed young waiter hanging out by the kitchen and anxiously looking in our direction.   
  
“Yes.” He nods.   
  
“Awh.” Gabby groans. “Can’t he stay?”   
  
“No,” I say dryly.   
  
“Okay Ms. Wolverine,” Wade says. “I will go. But talk to your old man for me. This can be an interesting enterprise for all of us!” He stands up. “See ya later half-pint!” He says to Gabby.   
  
“See ya jackass!” She says fondly.   
  
I stare at her as he leaves and sigh. “Gabby- you shouldn’t hang out with him so often.”    
  
“I like him.” She sips her orange juice.   
  
“He’s insane.”   
  
“That’s what makes him so fun!” She leans back in her chair. “Do you think..”   
  
“Do I think what?” I ask when she stops.   
  
“Do you think Daken will turn out like Wade?” She asks, a little hesitantly.    
  
That’s a good question.

But I don’t believe so. I think Daken would succeed in killing himself just not to be like Deadpool. 

“No.” I smile. “Daken has more class.”   
  
She returns my smile. “Yea.” She says. “I guess you’re right.”   
  
“Let’s get the check,” I say. “We can go do something fun.”   
  
“Like walk Jonathan!” Gabby says.   
  
I’m actually not too fond of walking Jonathan. But if it keeps her happy… we might as well. Besides- there’s no telling what the ‘tame’ wolverine has destroyed during our brief outing. He’s far from being housebroken, as is. And you can lay down all the newspaper you want. He’s just going to shred it and relieve himself on the carpet anyway. It’s a waste of a perfectly good newspaper.    
  
I take my phone out and realize I’ve got a text from Logan. It reads, ‘Daken’s taken over the dentist office, caused a fight with the dentist and assistants, and locked himself in the only surgical room they have. I know you’re in the area- could you give me a hand?” and it’s time stamped at twenty minutes ago.   
  
I groan and call the waiter to our table, asking for the check.   
  
“What’s wrong?” Gabby asks curiously as the waiter comes back with it.   
  
“Daken’s taken over the dentist office,” I say, putting two twenties in the black book that houses the check- just to make sure no one gets it and he gets a proportionate tip for the distress Deadpool put him under.  "And started some sort of altercation with the staff."   
  
“Oh wow.” She says, wide eyes. “Guess he needs Wade after all.”   
  
“No,” I say flatly. “He doesn’t.”   
  
“Agree to disagree,” Gabby says with a smile, standing up from her seat. “Let’s go!”   
  
We leave the large coffee shop and walk the short distance to the parking lot- somewhat enjoying the early October air, even though we’re in a bit of a rush. If Logan took him to where the other X-men go- which I strongly think he did- they’ll literally be right down the street.   
  
I get Gabby in the car and drive a little faster than necessary to the office, hitting all four of the red lights during our short trip.    
  
The dentist office, named an apt ‘Downtown Dentistry’ is a small open-floored glass surrounded office. A lot of natural sunlight and room for patients to move around.   
  
The waiting room is deceptively calm from the outside.   
  
I can see the bright blue paint on the walls, dimmed by the tint of the window.   
  
When we hit the doors- I can hear the commotion my sibling is causing.   
  
“Ma’am- you can’t come in here right now.” An elderly black woman tells me. “We’re closed for the afternoon.”   
  
“It’s okay!”Gabby says happily. “That’s our brother in there!”   
  
The woman looks us over. “Wonderful.” She says dryly. “Follow me.”   
  
She leads us through a door into a small hallway. Logan’s standing outside one door at the end with the dentist- in a white coat and still donning his face mask- and his assistants- all in some variation of pink scrubs- also with face masks on.   
  
“Calm down,” Logan says. “Just calm down.”   
  
"FUCK OFF!" Is shouted through the door.   
  
"Son- calm down," Logan says. "Come out."   
  
"NO!"   
  
"Come out," Logan repeats, knocking on the door.   
  
There's silence and the door remains unopened.   
  
Logan turns and looks at me- motioning me over with his hand.   
  
“Laura’s here.” He says through the door. “Will you let Laura in?   
  
There’s no response.   
  
“Daken- will you let Laura in?” He asks again.   
  
The dentist crosses his arms. “It’s normal for first-time patients to be nervous.” He says. “But this is a little extreme.”   
  
Logan turns from the door to face him. “Ya think?”   
  
“Maybe we should have sedated him before injecting his gums.” The dentist sounds to be in thought.   
  
“Yea... he read that as an attack. Don’t know why. He gets that fucking tattoo redone every few years.”   
  
“That does seem odd.” The dentist says. “Maybe it’s because he didn’t want to be here in the first place and he’s in a lot of pain. A lot of first time patients find it hard to handle when they need extensive work done.”   
  
Logan turns back to the door and bangs on it. “Let someone in or I’m taking down the door!” He yells through the wood, losing his patience.    
  
There’s a muffled “Laura.” Through the door.   
  
Logan motions to me.   
  
“You get back,” Daken says.   
  
Logan rolls his eyes and steps back in the hallway, letting me take his spot.   
  
“I’m here!” I say after a few awkward moments. “Can I come in?”   
  
The door unlocks and he cracks it open. “Just you.” He says.   
  
“Just me, I promise,” I say, holding my hand up as if I’m swearing an oath in court.    
  
“What about me??” Gabby asks.   
  
I shake my head at her mouthing ‘not now’.    
  
She crosses her arms and pouts.   
  
Daken cracks the door a little wider and lets me into the thoroughly trashed office, locking the door the second I’m inside.    
  
I can hear Logan pound on it- as if he expected to be able to slip in when I did. 

He’d have to be stupid to think Daken would let his guard down that easily.    
  
As is, unless I do something now- no one else is getting in here.    
  
Dental tools are scattered across the floor, water is on the chair and spraying on the cabinets to the side of the room, and the TV screen they put on the ceilings for patients to watch has been shattered. He’s done a wonderful job of destroying this once nice space.    
  
“Daken...” He’s standing over by the cabinets with his arms crossed.   
  
“I told him I didn’t want to do this.” He says heatedly. “I fucking told him!”    
  
“Did they get the teeth?” I ask, stepping over some kind of drill.   
  
He shakes his head.   
  
“None of them?”   
  
“None of them.” He says. “All I need is a pair of pliers. I told him that! I told him ten fucking times!”   
  
“It’s okay,” I say gently.   
  
“It’s not okay.” He growls. “I told him I didn’t want to do this!”   
  
“Are you... scared?” I ask gently.   
  
“No!” He snarls. “I’m not scared!”   
  
I motion around the room. “This looks like you were at least semi spooked.”   
  
“I wasn’t ‘spooked’ I’m not ‘scared’ and this only happened because I told HIM I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS!!!!!” The last is yelled for our father’s benefit I think.   
  
“I know, I know you don’t,” I say. “But you have to.”   
  
“I don’t have to do anything.” Daken snaps, pulling open the cabinets and ripping random items out.   
  
"Stop that." I sigh.   
  
"No," he says, starting to pull the cabinet door off. He succeeds and throws it across the room, letting it bang into the wall and leave a dent.   
  
"Daken- why are trashing this man's office?" I ask. “He didn’t do anything to you.”    
  
"He stuck my gum with this big ass fucking needle and then tried to drown me." He growls, going to the next cabinet.

Drown… oh no. Water was involved. 

Due to our father’s lovely parenting- Daken is petrified of drowning.    
  
"Drown you?" I ask.   
  
He nods, looking over his shoulder. "I couldn't breathe."   
  
"You... oh Daken," I say. "They didn't know you were frightened- you threw this tantrum before they could discern what was causing it. They weren’t trying to drown you- I promise."   
  
"Tantrum? They tried to drown me!" he says. "You're taking me home. You can even take me back to the school. Just take me anywhere but here. He’s not going to let them kill me- not this time. Not ever."

  
“They’re not trying to kill you.” I soothe. “Really- this is a standard dental treatment. He was probably trying to rinse blood off your gums.” 

“Oh yea?” He says. “And how many times have you been to the dentist?” 

“Uh..” 

“Exactly. You don’t know. He brought me here so they could drown me and make it look like an accident.” 

“Daken… that’s….”    
  
“It’s true.” He growls. “It’s completely true. This was his plan all along. This is the end game. This is it. This is how he wants to end it. And I’m not letting him. No one gets to kill me but me. And it won’t be by drowning. I can take anything else- but not drowning. Not again. He won’t do it. I won’t let him do it.” 

“He’s not trying to.” I say gently. “Daken- you’re delus-”    
  
“DO NOT use the ‘d’ word.” He snarls. 

‘Delusional’ is the only thing I can think of to describe his current train of thought. 

Let me try a different tactic. 

“Why would the dentist drown you?” I ask. “Don’t you think that would reflect badly on his record?” 

“Logan’s paying him.” Daken says. “I saw him give them money.” 

“To pay for your treatment.” I try to explain. “You don’t have insurance- the cost is out of pocket.” 

“He paid him to off me.” Daken growls. “I know what I saw.” 

“He paid him to take your teeth out.” I say patiently. “How is your mouth- is it numb?”

“No- that’s part of the trick.” He growls. “They’re making me think everything is normal and then putting that hose down my throat and drowning me.”

“He’s not going to let them drown you.” I try again. “Daken- that just doesn’t make sense.”

“It does make sense! He never wanted to ‘take care’ of me! He wants me dead! He’s always wanted me dead! He’s hiring this man to ‘accidentally’ kill me and then he’s going to cover it up!”

“Dentists don’t kill their patients.” I say as calmly as I can.

“This one does. I bet that’s why Logan was so insistent on using him. We passed by three of dentist’s offices- I saw them.”

“This is the dentist that the X-men use.” I sigh. “Scott or Hank probably recommended that he take you here.” 

“Then why do they already have my information? Why was he paying them if they already have my information? Huh? Answer me that!” 

“That…. That doesn’t make sense- Daken.” I try to reason with him. “They have your information because Logan called them and told them what the doctor at the hospital told him.  He was paying them because you have to pay for service upon receiving it and he already knew what had to be done. What they didn’t expect was you flipping out like this and trashing the place.” 

“That…” he pauses. “He drowned me.” he repeats.

“He didn’t know that would scare you so badly.” I soothe. “Logan should have warned him, but I honestly think he forgot.” 

“How could he forget???” Daken cries.    
  
“Listen,” I move towards him, stopping when I see him flinch. “Please Daken... I just want to see you not in pain.” I say, switching my approach. “I saw you eating last night. It hurt. This hurts you. Just let them do their jobs. They’re not trying to hurt you, I give you my word. No one wants you dead. No one. Logan didn’t pay him to drown you. He honestly didn’t know that the hose would freak you out so badly. Just… let them do their job? Okay? Please?”   
  
“No.” He puts his hands on the counter and leans into them, his back turned to me. “No. There’s another option. There’s always another option.”   
  
“Not this time there isn’t.” I stay by the chair. “You  _ need  _  to get those teeth out. Okay? You’re hurting. When you’re hurting you do something about it. Going to the dentist is what you do for dental problems. Please. Just let them do their jobs.”    
  
“Even if he’s not trying to kill me- which I still think he is-”    
  
“He’s not.” I say.    
  
He glares at me, “On the off chance that he isn’t and that this is just some freak accident- then the problem is that he’s making me do things. Already. He’s got full control. He’s in full power. It’s just what I told them would happen! He’s going to use this to hurt me!”

This is really playing on the bad side of my brother’s relationship to my father. This is why I told Logan to be careful when dealing with Daken. This is why I didn’t want him to be in control. Every move that he makes- Daken is going to suspect there’s an ulterior motive. That’s going to drive him insane as he tries to protect himself but a threat that literally doesn’t exist.

“He’s just trying to help.” I soothe. “You’re in pain. You  _ know _ you’re in pain. Why are you fighting this?”   
  
“Because I don’t want to do it!” He snaps.   
  
“Do you not want to do it because Logan told you to or because you’re scared?” I ask.   
  
Daken turns around and faces me. “It hurts.” He says simply. “And… I don’t want to drown.” 

I find this odd seeing as he jumped off a bridge not too long ago. 

The experience must have unearthed some greater fears inside of him. 

“Logan is not going to let him drown you.” I repeat. “And besides- he’d lose his license and probably face jail time. He’s not going to want to do that.” 

“He’s doing this to hurt me.” Daken insists. “He wants me dead.” 

“He doesn’t want you dead.” I pause. “And if it hurts- it’s because of how bad the damage is. That’s not him doing it. That’s just a side effect of what you’ve already done.”

Daken hangs his head. “Don’t let them hurt me- please. I don’t have my powers and there’s too many of them to hold off.”

“They’re not going to hurt you.” I soothe. “Daken, I promise. You’re not thinking logically. That man out there means you no harm.” 

“Then why does it hurt? Huh? Why is he hurting me if you say he doesn’t want to??”

I’ve already answered that. Daken is talking in circles. 

He never used to do that. 

It’s like his mind can’t process what I’m telling him long enough for him to see the truth.    
  
As if he’s rejecting it as soon as it hits his ears.     
  
“Well... you shattered several teeth... fixing them is bound to hurt at least a little.” I try. “But he’s not doing it on a purpose. It’s the nature of the job.”    
  
“He’s doing this to punish me for jumping.” He says.

“The dentist-”    
  
“Not him.” Daken says quickly. “Logan. He’s punishing me. I can’t get him to stop. I can’t tell him I’m sorry. I can’t ask him to let me go. He’s in control and he’s using it to hurt me. Just like I told you would.” 

The accusation in his tone hurts.    
  
“He’s not punishing you.” I soothe. “Trust me- you paid the price for that at this point. You have more than paid the price. No one wants to hurt you anymore. This is… a necessary evil. And it’s uncomfortable, and scary, and yes- it hurts. But it’s not a punishment. You’ll feel so much better when you’re teeth are fixed. You’ll hurt less, you’ll be able to eat again, and more importantly- the faster you do this, the faster it’s over. Do you understand?”   
  
“He’s punishing me,” Daken repeats. “I don’t know how to appease him. I can’t get him to stop.” His words are coming out panicked. “It’s just like... god... it’s just like-“

“You’re not listening to me.” I try to get him to focus. “Logan, the dentist, the dental assistants- none of these people are punishing you. I promise.”

“They’re punishing me… and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please- don’t let the drown me.”

As if I had some level of control over this.

“Please- I’m begging you-”

“It’s okay,” I say when he stops. “Logan is not punishing you. You’ve done nothing worth punishing- okay? I know it hurts but they’re trying to help. Logan means you no ill will.”   
  
“He’s punishing me.” He repeats, kind of sounding breathless. “He’s... god.. he’s-“   
  
His eyes dart around the room- settling on a window.   
  
I move just as he does- grabbing him around the waist and hauling him back to the seat as soon as he smashes through the glass- barely managing to get him into it.   
  
“You don’t understand!” He cries, struggling.”They’re going to kill me!”    
  
I notice they’ve got a box of restraints sitting out. They must have already been taking steps to stop this. I can see where that would add to his distress. 

It’s going to be hard to restrain a full grown struggling man to a dentist’s chair. But he’s trying to throw himself out the window.

“I understand.” I soothe. “I also understand that you just tried to go out the window.” I look him over. “And your hand is bleeding.”    
  
He lets out a yell that is not necessarily human.

“Calm down.” I say calmly, trying to hold him to the chair. “I do not want to restrain you- but I will if you don’t control yourself.”

“LET ME GO!” He yells.    
  
I wince at the rise in volume.    
  
“Daken, please.” I beg with him. “Calm down. I don’t want to do this and I know you don’t want me to.” 

“Let go.” He says breathlessly. “Let go, let go, LET GO!” 

There will be no getting around this. 

“I am scared you are going to hurt yourself.” I say clearly. “If you do not calm yourself, I will restrain you to the chair.” 

“I’ll kill them before they kill me.” He sounds almost to be in some sort of manic state. “I’ll kill them all. They can’t hurt me. I won’t let them hurt me. No one can fucking hurt me. I won’t let them. I won’t-   
  
He’s threatening the staff. Now they’re in danger from one of his more drastic episodes.    
  
Logan should really take him home.    
  
But to talk to Logan- I’d have to let him go to unlock the door. If I let him go- he’s going out that window. 

My only choice is to hold him immobile to this chair and then restrain him to it. 

He kicks out at me- making me step to the side to avoid his legs. Which are quite powerful as I’ve noted when we’ve fought before. He’s really the only one of us besides myself who utilizes kicks in his fighting style. I admire it, usually. I use my legs and feet because of my hidden third claw- he uses his because they’re that strong and he has that much technique.    
  
I manage to rope the long Velcro straps around his torso- trapping his arms down and quickly secure it to some kind of latch under the chair.   
  
“Stop!” He cries.   
  
“It’s okay.” For some reason I find myself getting tearful.   
  
I rope the second strap about his legs- which is slightly harder.    
  
“Let me go.” He orders.    
  
“It’s okay,” I repeat. It’s more for me this time. “It’s all okay.”

“Let me go!” He demands- louder.

“I cannot let you hurt yourself or anyone else.” I say. “You will remain in the chair until we can form a plan. Okay? You are in no danger. Just calm down and focus on keeping yourself that way.”    
  
He struggles for a few minutes before tiring out.   
  
“You’re with him.” He says brokenly into the newly created silence of the room.    
  
“No-“   
  
“You’re with him.” He repeats. “Everyone is with him.”   
  
“No, Daken,” I say. “No.” I hold his hand, to my surprise he squeezes mine back. “You tried to go out the window,” I say.   
  
He nods.   
  
“You know what kind of trouble that gets you into,” I say gently.   
  
“Had to get away.” He says. “Had to try.”   
  
“I know.” I nod. “I know. You’re trapped. You don’t like being trapped.”   
  
“Let me go.” He says. “Please.”   
  
I squeeze his hand again. “I’m going to let everyone in,” I say. “But I’ll stay with you the entire time- okay?”   
  
He nods. “Fine.” He says quietly- almost in a whisper.    
  
“Okay.” I walk to the door, wiping a tear from my eyes, unlocking the door and letting everyone in.   
  
“This is a fine mess.” The dentist says, observing the room. 

I can’t help but glare at him.  Now is not the proper time to bring it up. Not when my brother is so fretful of his presence to begin with.    
  
“Can you work in it?” Logan asks, entering behind him.    
  
He nods.   
  
“We’ll pay for the damages. Just get those teeth out.”   
  
“Got it.” The dentist goes to the cabinets and pulls out a box of latex gloves- slipping one on his hands. “Okay, Daken.” He says. “I understand that you’re frightened.” He turns around to face my brother. “But I mean you no ill will.” He says soothingly. “You’ve shattered your back molars- top and bottom- as well as several of your other teeth that most likely shattered from the multiple impacts of your multiple falls- pushing your jaw together kind of like grinding them? But really, really hard.” The dentist says. “But with your healing factor, your dad promises they will grow back by the end of the day. So we’re not gonna worry about fillings or crowns or anything. I’m simply going to pull them and we’re going to let the new ones grow back in their place.”

He’s staring at the man in fear and panic.

“Please do not use the hose on him.” I say. “He thinks you’re going to drown him.”

Logan now has a look of understanding. “Fuck.” he says.    
  
I nod. 

“Daken… he’s not going to drown you.” Logan says. “I promise. We’re not going to let him hurt you.” 

The dentist gently pats my brother’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t hurt you.” he says. “And I’ve never, in my 20 years of dentistry, drowned a patient.” He holds his hand up. “Scout’s honor. If I had known you were worried about the water, I would have found a way around it. You were supposed to tell me if you were uncomfortable- remember?”

He nods. 

“And you were supposed to tell me  _ before  _ you punched me in the face and trashed my room.” He smiles a little. “But you’re going to be okay- alright? We’ll work around using the hose. I promise. “   
  
He nods. “Fine.” He says dejectedly.   
  
“We’re going to put you under this time.” The dentist says. “Alright? Not fully under, but you’ll be out of it enough to not feel anything and be in a calmer state. ”   
  
He nods again.   
  
“Let’s do this.” The dentist nods to his assistants as Gabby and Logan prop themselves up against the counter.

“Wow.” She says for the first time in minutes. “This place is trashed.” 

That causes a small laugh from various people around the room. 

“Can I have the drill?” 

“No.” Logan chuckles.

“Plllleeeeeaaassssseeeee?” She asks. “Jonathan is in dire need of dental work and no vets around us will take him.” 

Ah yes. The joys of having a wild animal for a pet.

“I’ll find you someone to look at his teeth.” Logan says. “Without taking the dentist’s drill.” 

“Fine.” She huffs. “But you’re doing it the hard way.”

Logan laughs again, crossing his arms. “How long is this going to take, doc?” he asks. 

“We’re going to fix some of this damage before we can start.” He says. “And not using the hose is going to make us move a little slower. So I’d guess about four hours? Then another one and a half for him to wake up if we decide to put him fully under. We won’t know until we see he reacts to the drugs.”

“Wow. That’s a long time.” Gabby says.    
  
“You don’t have to stay here, Gabby.,” Logan says.   
  
“I wanna see teeth get pulled!” Gabby says excitedly.   
  
Logan looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “You worry me sometimes, girl.” He says with a smile.   
  
“At least you’re not worried all of the time.” She smiles back.   
  
Daken actually lets out a small laugh.   
  
Gabby’s guaranteed to liven his mood.   
  
“Daken- can I have your teeth when they take them out?”She asks.    
  
“What are you going to do with your brother’s teeth?” Logan asks incredulously.   
  
She shrugs. “Look at them.”   
  
Daken nods. “You can have my teeth, Gabby.”   
  
“And Laura can make you some soup!” She says. “For when your teeth are growing back. Just be careful- she uses a lot of spices.”   
  
I have to smirk. “I do.” I agree.   
  
“I’m not hungry,” Daken says- though it’s not catty or cruel. He’s just responding.   
  
His ‘you’re with him’ line sticks out to me.

I’m not with him. I’m with Daken. And Gabby.

I hope at least part of him knows that.   
  
I hope. If not... well I'll just have to show him.   
  
And that? That's going to be the real challenge.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can reach me at my Tumblr (same name)  
> I love to hear from y'all and talk about what I'm doing as far as writing and updates go! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> And like always- I implore you, if something is tagged wrong- let me know!  
> I promise I'm not some evil creature who feeds off people getting triggered. Trust me- I have many, many triggers. Writing kinda elevates some of the anxieties and fears I have. I know it's a little dark sometimes.  
> So, if you'd be so kind, just let me know if something is tagged wrong. I will apologize to you (because I really will be sorry) and I will fix the issue so no one else gets triggered by it. 
> 
> As always- Y'all are awesome! Thanks for reading!


	13. Teeth, soft, sun, soft, Bobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drugging of the novocaine and anesthesia varieties. Not necessarily wanted.  
> Teeth pulling.  
> A side of drugged flirting. (Nothing happens- I swear. It's just a little flirting)  
> Hallucinations mixed in.  
> ANNND some Daken/Bobby cuteness!  
> I think that's it.  
> Thank y'all so much for all the comments and kudos. This story makes me so happy to write and I'm so glad I get to share it with y'all! 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Laying on my back in this fucking chair leaves very little options for things to look at. I really wish I hadn’t kicked and shattered that TV screen. At least the TV would have given me some sort of distraction. Even if it was just shitty NCIS, Criminal minds, SVU bullshit. 

There's a tugging at my gums that will not stop. No matter how many times they numb me or how many shots of painkillers they inject- I cannot fight this horrid pain. Which is where the lovely distraction part would have come in.  

Uh. So.. so many teeth. What is it- five? Six? I've lost count. Molars on both sides of my mouth. A canine was cracked. Noticeable damage. I haven't been able to look in a mirror for a while. Why didn't anyone tell me it was this bad? Why.. didn't I notice that it was this bad? This seems like something I should have noticed. I guess I’ve been in my head for longer than I thought. I suppose it’s something I’ll have to keep an eye out for.    
  
"I think he can feel that." The doctor says, stopping his tugging. "Daken- can you feel this?"   
  
I nod- which is hard to do with his fucking hand in my mouth.    
  
This is torture. Logan is truly making me pay for jumping.

Laura is wrong. He may not be trying to kill me- but he is definitely punishing me. 

The shitty thing is- to get out of this situation, all of this- I would jump again in a heartbeat. From higher distances- too. Over and over again until it stuck. 

As is, I think everytime I do...I’ll end right back up here. Which I’ve solely determined is a bad thing and good deterrent for not doing something like jumping in the future. Maybe stick to poisons and pills.

The dentist rests his hand on my shoulder. “Yea- he can feel that.” he says, prodding a little more with a gloved finger. “It seems as if the teeth have started trying to correct themselves while still in his gums.” he says. “They’re growing back strong but not necessarily into something that’s going to help him chew and eat well- so pulling them, even if he didn’t have a healing factor, would be an necessity.” 

“Do what you have to do.” Logan says. “Keep him numbed up and he’ll be fine.” 

I hate this place. More than I’ve hated any place in a while. And that? That’s saying something. I do not regret trashing this man’s office. I’ve come to believe that he is evil- truly evil. All of them are. His demonic assistants with their ‘calming’ words and ‘soothing’ touches. 

One of the demented wenches wipe a cloth under my mouth- catching salvia. It’s disgusting. 

This whole dentist thing is very undignified. Being tied to the chair makes it worse. 

I try to move my arms a little- seeing if the restraints have miraculously loosened. 

Of course, being true to my luck, they haven’t. 

“Don’t strain.” One of the assistants tells me. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Yea. Right. The dentist told me that two hours ago. Still waiting for it to be over.    
  
They put this thing in my mouth that I can't spit out- holding it open while they rip shit out of me. To their word, though, they’ve not used the hose again. So I suppose I can thank them for doing that little bit of good. 

This has all been so dramatic. 

All I needed was a pair of pliers.   
  
This is a little too extreme for my taste. I can’t imagine how people do this knowing that their teeth won’t grow back.    
  
Logan is sitting on the counter beside my sisters, watching.

He’s been mostly encouraging since Laura revealed that I thought they were trying to kill me.

I don’t necessarily like the praise- but I don’t necessarily not like it.  

"All good Daken?" he asks.   
  
I can't respond. But he's been asking that every twenty minutes. Or some variation of that- at least.   
  
"How's he doing, doc?" he asks when I don't give him any sign of my current state.   
  
The dentist prods around my mouth some more. "He's sore." He says. "Kind of tearing up, to be honest."   
  
I tell him to fuck off- but it doesn't work.   
  
"Daken your mouth looks really messed up," Gabby says. "Like really messed up. Why'd you jump from so high??"   
  
"He was tryin' to kill himself, Gabby," Logan says. "And now he knows that that's a bad idea."   
  
Fuck him!   
  
I try to voice my anger- but nothing makes it out of my mouth but small slurred sounds.   
  
"Shh." The dentist says. says. "Shush now."   
  
"Don't talk to him like he's a child," Laura growls.   
  
I'm glad to have her here.   
  
"My apologies." The dentist says. "I'm just trying to keep him calm." He gestures to the room around us. "We don't want a repeat of earlier."   
  
I would do a 'repeat' without a second thought.   
  
"If he's tearing up- gas him again," Logan says. "I don't want him to be in pain." He looks over at me ."Even if he deserves it for doing something that stupid."

I close my eyes. He’s right- I did something stupid. And true to every other male figure in my life- he’s making me pay for it. 

"Gasing him won't do anything to help with the pain." The dentist leans back from his spot looking down over me and turns to his assistant. "Why don't you prep some more novocaine?" he asks. "Three, please. This is wearing off faster than expected."   
  
I try to shake my head. No more shots in my gums. I won't have it. I won't-   
  
"Here we go." He says. "Thank you, Stacie."   
  
"Eww. That's gross." Gabby makes a gagging noise.   
  
"Gabby, why don't you go wait in the lobby?" Laura asks. "He's okay. I promise."   
  
"Then why aren't you coming with me?" The girl asks suspiciously.   
  
"Because I promised him I'd stay," Laura says. "Go on."   
  
Gabby sighs. "I want those teeth." She says.   
  
"And you'll get them- I promise," Laura says. "Go on. Take my phone. No buying apps or ordering from Uber Eats." She says. "We're going to eat when we leave."   
  
"Yea yea," Gabby says, hopping down from the counter. She takes Laura's phone and gets up close to the chair.   
  
"That's so gross." She says in awe. "Can I take a picture???"   
  
"No." Laura and Logan say at the same time.   
  
"Fine," Gabby says. "Fine. But I want those teeth."   
  
"You'll get them," Laura assures her.   
  
"Stacie, can you hold him his head still? He jerks when we inject him." The dentist says.    
  
"Sure thing." The woman says with a chipper tone to her voice.    
  
She puts a hand on each side of my face- holding me immobile.    
  
I wonder if all dental visits are this hands on or if I’m a special case.    
  
"Now let's take a deep breath..." He says, "And hold really still."   
  
I refuse to jerk just out of principle.   
  
The injections are like stabbing knives into my mouth- which to be honest is very sore to begin with.   
  
"Hit him with a little more of the gas." He says. “Just a little.”    
  
The mouthpiece is put back to my nose. That makes me jerk away.   
  
"Easy." The dentist says. "Easy now. You’re doing great.”   
  
"He's been such a good sport." One of the assistants says.   
  
Fuck her.   
  
"He really has." The dentist agrees.   
  
Fuck him, too.   
  
"He should be ready for a nice long nap after this. The teeth on the left side of his mouth have already partially regrown. It's the most fascinating thing I've seen in ages."   
  
The gas hits my nose- smelling vaguely like oranges.   
  
"You're doing great." He says again. "Keep breathing. We've got four more to do."   
  
I don’t care. I don't feel anything.   
  
"So he can eat tonight?" Logan asks.   
  
"At this rate- I don't see why not." The device is put back in my mouth- I feel it clenching down on one of my teeth towards the back.   
  
Someone pats my shoulder.   
  
“Doing okay?” Laura asks.   
  
"He should be feeling just fine." The dentist says.   
  
I look up at the ceiling, past all of them.   
  
I feel my eyes closing just as the demon in charge of this procedure yanks on another tooth.   
  
“He’s doing okay,” Logan says, more to himself. 

I think he aimed it at Laura- but it sounds more like he’s reassuring himself.    
  
The tooth hurts. I ball my fists up- trying to will my claws to extend. Not much to my surprise- they don't.   
  
More tugging.   
  
I feel my eyes tearing up again.   
  
Whoever invented dentistry is a true sadist.   
  
My mouth gets more and more unbearable as the time ticks by.   
  
When the metal probe hits one spot- I try to turn my head.   
  
"Hey- hey." The dentist says quickly. "That one hurt." He says. " I'm sorry. I can see that it hurt. Hold on- okay? We're not going to let it hurt anymore."   
  
I like the sound of that.   
  
"Breathe." Logan coaches from the sidelines.   
  
"That's right." The man over me says. "Let's take a few deep breaths.... in and out. This has been very painful. I hope you remember this the next time you feel like jumping off of something."   
  
I glare at him.   
  
He shrugs. "Just a thought. Now- We’re down to the last one. You’ve done amazingly. Much better than when you came in. And your teeth are going to be just fine- I promise.”    
  
I don’t know why- but I like the sound of that.   
  
“We’re going to hit you with one more dose of anesthesia before pulling this last one.” The man says. “It looks like a doozy- It seems to have shattered deep down in your gum- I think it was embedded further by the force of the impact.”    
  
One of his assistants preps my arm for another shot- right above the restraints.   
  
“Go ahead.” The dentist nods to the masked woman.   
  
She injects me without a word.   
  
That sets in quickly. Everything is fuzzy and warm. I like fuzzy and warm.   
  
"Here we go." The masked man says. "Let's pray."   
  
Funny.   
  
Very, very funny.   
  
I close my eyes. Feels... nice. First time I’ve felt nice in a while.   
  
My mind drifts away from me. I hope it stays gone.   
  
“Hey.” I open my eyes blearily and see my father standing over me. “It’s time to go.” He says.   
  
“Go?” My mouth is numb.   
  
Ha. When did it get numb?   
  
“Go,” Logan says, smiling a little. “How ya feeling?”   
  
How am I feeling?   
  
I feel.. good. I feel good.   
  
“Okay,” I say.   
  
“Yea?”   
  
“Yea.”   
  
“That’s good.” He holds his hand out to me.

“I’m a free?” I ask sleepily. 

“‘Free’?” He laughs. “What do you mean?” 

“From the ropes.”

Logan smiles. “Those weren’t ropes- kid. They were straps. We wouldn’t rope you to a chair. You’re not a hostage.” He watches me for a second. “But yea- you’re ‘free’.”    
  
Okay good. I’m free. Free is good. Now it’s time to stand up. I try but quickly realize that my feet are broken.   
  
"Can't... can't move," I say sleepily.   
  
"I know you can't," Logan says. "Here let me-"   
  
I try again- just out of stubbornness.   
  
"Argh!" I groan when I fall back into the seat.   
  
“No, no, no. I didn't mean stand up on your own. You're way too out of it to support yourself. Points for trying though, son.” Logan laughs. “Let me clarify, you’re going in a wheelchair to get to the car- okay? Wheelchair- car. Got it?”   
  
I try to stand up again.   
  
"Wheelchair," Logan repeats.   
  
"Ngh." I give up. I try one last time- and then fall back into the chair- knocking a tray over.   
  
"Sure. Keep trashing the office. You've already done all the damage you could possibly do. Let's add a few hundred dollars more to our bill."   
  
I feel myself grinning.   
  
Logan shakes his head. "Don't stand up on your own. Let me pull you up- got it?"   
  
“I get it.” I snicker. That’s funny to me. So.. so funny.   
  
His face is so... serious. Why so serious? Everything's good.   
  
Logan looks like a confused caveman and a fucked up lumberjack had a lovechild and then dipped it in the leftover hair clippings from some demented beauty salon that only caters to Sasquatches.   
  
It's so, so funny.   
  
I laugh some more.   
  
I'm funny.   
  
Why aren't I funny more often?   
  
I'm good at being funny.   
  
Master never liked it when I was funny. He hit me for making jokes when I wasn't supposed to.   
  
Other people got to make jokes- but not me. Never me.   
  
I laugh some more. Just because I wasn't allowed to.   
  
I should do everything I wasn't allowed to do.   
  
Eat sweets, make jokes, date... date? Why would I want to date?   
  
Ah. I like the idea.   
  
I look back at my father and start laughing all over again.   
  
“Whatcha laughing at boy?”   
  
“Face.” I snicker.   
  
“Whose face?”   
  
“All of your faces.” I cover my mouth with my hand. “So funny.” I slur.   
  
“Yea? Well sorry I’m not beauty pageant material.” He chuckles. “Just remember- I made you so-“   
  
“Oh my god, I’m going to look like that???” I feel horrified suddenly.   
  
“No-“   
  
“Have to shave,” I say. “I have to-“ I grab the front of his shirt. “I have to shave,” I say. “Now.”   
  
“You’re not shaving right now.” Logan laughs. “You can’t even keep your eyes open.” He turns his head. “Laura- give me a hand.”   
  
Laura joins him over my head. “Much better,” I say.   
  
“What’s much better?” Laura asks.   
  
“Your face.” I snicker again. “Better than his face.”   
  
“Thank you.” She smiles. “I like your face too.”   
  
There's one face I'd like to see more than any other.   
  
My mind's been thinking about Bobby all day.   
  
Mr. Ice ”man”. More like Ice “boy”. I'm way older than he is.   
  
Besides, he donned that nickname at like.. fourteen. Fourteen-year-olds aren't men.   
  
He grew into a man though.   
  
A fine man.   
  
I like to think about him. His mouth, his lips, his perfect teeth.   
  
Teeth.. teeth? Teeth.   
  
I keep thinking that word, over and over and over again. It doesn't feel like a real word anymore.   
  
Teeth. Teeth.   
  
Bones that grow in your head.   
  
Those teeth.   
  
Master had sharp teeth.He could use them to bite when he wanted to. He didn't do it often.   
  
His is a face I don't like.   
  
He was never attractive in the conventional sense- but he reeked of power. Control. Self-discipline.   
  
He could have anything he wanted.   
  
He wouldn't want me to think about Bobby like this.   
  
But... I don't care what he wants.

I’m glad he’s dead. Dead and in the ground. Forever and ever. 

I want to think about Bobby. That’s what I want.    
  
And be funny.

… and eat sweets.

I can’t remember the last time I had something sweet. 

Always protein and fiber. No sugar. I want sugar. I want a lot of sugar.

I should demand sugar for my compliance.    
  
They should pay me in it.    
  
Everything is really funny right now.   
  
“I have other faces I like,” I whisper. "Don't tell Master."   
  
“Oh?” Laura is smiling.   
  
I nod.   
  
“Get him in the chair,” Logan says. He grabs under my arms and she grabs my feet.   
  
“Ouch!” I cry.   
  
“Sorry,” Logan says.   
  
“Brute.” I snicker.   
  
“You’ve called me worse.” Logan pats my shoulder.   
  
“We should go see... Bobby.” I say.   
  
“Yea?” Logan starts to push me into the hall.   
  
“Want him to do that thing,” I say sleepily.   
  
“What thing?” Logan asks.   
  
“The tongue thing,” I say. “He e-“   
  
“Don’t want to hear it,” Logan says quickly, cutting me off. “Don’t need to hear it, don’t want to hear it- let’s just not talk about it.”   
  
I nod. “I like his tongue,” I say.   
  
“Daken-“   
  
“Like his nose.” I continue.   
  
“That’s sweet,” Laura says with a chuckle.   
  
“Like his eyes.”   
  
“Yea?” Logan says. “That’s good.”   
  
“Like his di-“   
  
“No.” Logan cuts me off again. “Not gonna go there. Like everything above the belt- okay?” 

“Yea, okay.” I agree.

I’ll like his dick in my head. Bobby has a nice dick. Logan’s being a dick for not letting me talk about it. He’s like the dick nazi. 

Heh. I’m funny again.

I like being funny.    
  
I lean back into my chair. “Where are we going?” I ask.   
  
The whole dentist office is a blur. I can't begin to describe what it looks like. Everything is just blurry.   
  
The room was trashed. I trashed it good.   
  
I'm good at fucking things up.   
  
“Home.” Logan says, “Laura, get that door, will ya?”   
  
"I'm a fuckup," I say, mind heavy suddenly.   
  
"What?" Logan asks, stopping our movement.    
  
"Fuckup," I say. "I'm... a fuckup."   
  
"I wouldn't say that," Logan says. "Get the door, Laura."   
  
"You like her better than me," I say.   
  
"No, Daken. I don't."   
  
"You do." I insist.   
  
"Why don't we talk about this when you're more alert- okay?" Logan says.   
  
"Yea, okay."   
  
I hear the door to the office opening up.   
  
As soon as the door is opened and there’s warm sunlight on my face.   
  
“Feels good,” I say.   
  
“You like the sun?” Logan asks.   
  
“Uh-hmm.”   
  
“You can go onto the grounds of the campus when you get your feet back under you,” Logan says. “If you want.”   
  
“Want to see Bobby,” I repeat. He’s really not getting that.   
  
“Bobby’s busy,” Logan says. “He’s got to teach during the day- remember?”   
  
“Ugh.” I groan. "Little brats."   
  
“I know,” Logan says with a chuckle. “I know. That sucks. But I’m sure there’s someone else you can hang out with. Kitty? Ro? Remy? They’re all off this afternoon.”   
  
“Ugh. Not Remy.” I stick my tongue out in disgust. That feels good. My.. tongue feels funny.   
  
“Whatcha doing with your tongue?” Logan asks, laughing.   
  
“I don’t know,” I say with it still out.   
  
“Put back in your mouth.” Logan says, “You’re gonna bite it.”   
  
“I'll bite it if I want to bite it,” I say argumentatively.   
  
“Do you want to bite it?” Logan asks patiently.   
  
I think about it for a minute. “No.”   
  
“Then put it back in your mouth.” He laughs again.   
  
We stay in the sunshine for a long time.   
  
"Feels good," I say again.   
  
"I'm glad you like it," Logan says. "You can go outside when you wake up a little more."   
  
"Sounds good." I close my eyes for a long moment.   
  
"See you later." Logan is saying to someone. "I'll let you know when he comes around."   
  
I open my eyes and see Laura leaving- waving goodbye.   
  
"Laura!" I call after her.   
  
She stops moving. "Yes?"   
  
"Don't forget Gabby." I slur.   
  
Laura smiles. "I won't forget Gabby, Daken. I promise." 

“Give her the teeth!” I call.

“I will!” She says, over her shoulder. She waves again- heading back to the office.

My father and I fall into silence as he continues to push me. 

I hum to myself. 

“You’re pretty happy- huh?” Logan asks, pushing up to the door of our black van.

“Happy.” I repeat. “Yea. I’m happy.” 

“That’s good.” He says. “We like it when you’re happy.” 

“No you don’t.” I laugh.    
  
“Yea we do,” he says, patting my shoulder. “You fight less when you’re happy.” 

That makes me laugh.

“Okay, son,” Logan says, sliding open the door to the van we use. “It’s gonna be real soft and real dark- okay? Can you handle soft and dark?”   
  
“Fuck you.” I groan.   
  
“Guess that’s a yes.” He mumbles, taking me under the arms again. “Little push.” He says, maneuvering me into the soft dark place. “All good?” He asks. His voice is up high again. I’m down low. He’s taller than me.   
  
“You’re not taller than me,” I say.   
  
“Nope.” He says. “I’m gonna close the door now.”   
  
“Wait!”   
  
“Yea?”   
  
I pause. “Have you seen a cat?”   
  
“No,” Logan says softly. “No son. I haven’t. There’s no cat.”   
  
“There’s always a cat,” I say. “Tons of cats. Little cats. Big cats. Panthers. Tigers. Tabby’s. Calico. Mixed.”   
  
“Do you have a particular cat in mind?” Logan asks.   
  
I shake my head. “It’s gone.”   
  
“Let’s keep it gone,” Logan says. “Gonna close the door. You okay with that?”   
  
“Yea,” I say sleepily.   
  
“Okay,” Logan says before the door shuts.   
  
The floor is soft.   
  
I like soft things.   
  
I run my hand over the padding and close my eyes. It’s dark anyway.   
  
The material of the padding smells clean. And not like spray thingy to make it clean. Clean- clean. I like clean.   
  
Moving. We’re moving.   
  
I turn onto my side. It’s hard. My body doesn’t want to respond.   
  
We stop a lot. Stop and go and stop and go.   
  
Then we finally stop- and we don’t go. The van shuts off and I can hear a door open. Not my door- though.   
  
There’s talking outside the van. I can’t make it out.   
  
I open my eyes to find the light. There is no light.   
  
The talking continues.   
  
What... are they saying?   
  
Why... is it taking so long?   
  
Why... do I feel like this?   
  
The side door to the van finally opens, letting in the light I was looking for.   
  
“Hey,” Logan says.   
  
“Hey.” I close my eyes again, running my hand over the padding.   
  
“You like how that feels?” Logan says.   
  
“Uh-hmm.”   
  
"All things considered you've done really good today," Logan says.   
  
"I'm pissed that you let them rip things out of my skull," I say.   
  
"Had to do it." He says, "How do they feel?"   
  
"My mouth is numb," I report.   
  
"I know. That'll wear off. How about your teeth? Grow back alright?"   
  
I tongue the back of my teeth. They're all there.   
  
"All there," I say.   
  
"Good," he says. "That's really good. Hey- I got a surprise for you.”   
  
“Surprise?” I like the sound of that.   
  
“Yep.” Logan moves to the side. “Bobby didn’t have class this afternoon- it got canceled. I thought you’d like to hang out with him while I got some stuff done.”   
  
I nod. “Yea.”   
  
“Yea?”   
  
“Yea,” I repeat. "That'd be nice."   
  
“Not a lot of real talking,” Logan says to Bobby. “Oughta make this easy on you.”   
  
“Thanks.” Bobby laughs.   
  
“Let me get him inside,” Logan says. “He’ll hang out in his room for right now. He can’t stand up on his own.”   
  
“Got it,” Bobby says. His voice sounds... chipper. He’s happy. Him being happy makes me happy...   
  
To be honest though, right now- everything makes me happy.   
Especially this padding.   
  
So soft. So clean.   
  
Logan pulls me out of the van and to my feet.   
  
He supports most of my weight and starts walking in the direction of the front door.   
  
“No.” I stop walking with him.   
  
“No what?” He asks.   
  
“I want to stay out here. Sun feels.. good.”   
  
“You’re drugged up to your ears.” Logan chuckles. “You need to lie down.”   
  
“Can I lie in the sun?” I ask.   
  
“After you get some rest,” Logan says. “I promise.”   
  
His promises aren’t worth shit. The thought makes me laugh again.   
  
“You left Laura at the dentist office?” Bobby asks as we start moving again.   
  
“She drove herself,” Logan says. “She said something about taking Gabby shopping for shoes.”   
  
“Gabby!” I say. “She can’t go with Laura!”   
  
“That’s enough.” Logan shushes. “Quiet down. She’s safe.”   
  
“I know she’s safe,” I say groggily. “But Laura is terrible at shopping.”   
  
Bobby bursts out laughing. “And I thought that was gonna be some earth-shattering revelation.”   
  
“Yea. He’s good for those.”   
  
The sun goes away as we head inside. Making it to the stairs and Logan exhales slowly. “You’re gonna have to work with me, son.” He says. “Got it?”   
  
“No. You got it.” I say, leaning forward.   
  
Bobby catches my other arm, wrapping his arm around my back and helping hold me up.   
  
“Thanks, Drake,” Logan says.   
  
Bobby nods. “Carrying a drugged Daken up twenty steps.” He says. “Let’s do this.”   
  
Logan chuckles.   
  
I try to help them with their quest to get me upstairs- but find it difficult. Logan tells me several times that I’m not helping at all.   
  
He’s such a bastard.   
  
Finally, we hit my doorway. Logan takes over and gets me to the bed.   
  
Then it’s soft again. So so soft.   
  
“Bobby will sit with ya,” Logan says. “I got some stuff to do.”   
  
I nod, laying back into my pillows.   
  
“Okay.” Logan turns to Bobby. “No funny business.” He says. “If I find out you so much as touched him- you’re losing a hand. Got me?”   
  
Bobby raises his hands up in a ‘calm down’ motion. “I got it.” He says. “Chill. It’s good. I won’t touch him.”   
  
"Ha! Chill."   
  
Logan looks at me and then back to Bobby. “Good.” He taps my leg- the closest thing to him. “Get some rest.” He says.   
  
I hear Logan leave and turn to my one time enemy, then uneasy friend, then amazing fuck buddy, and then back to a friend, and grin. “I missed you,” I say.   
  
Bobby smiles. “No you didn’t.”   
  
“I did!” I argue.   
  
Bobby takes a seat on the edge of the bed, back to me. “What’d you miss about me?” He asks.   
  
“Eyes,” I say.   
  
He turns his head and looks at me, smile still on his face. “My eyes?”   
  
I nod. “And your nose.”   
  
“Now I know you’re high.” He laughs.   
  
“I’m not high,” I say.   
  
“You’re a little high,” Bobby whispers.   
  
“I’m not high,” I whisper back.   
  
He shakes his head. “How are your teeth?” He asks.   
  
“Teeth?”   
  
“The ones that got pulled?”   
  
I tongue my teeth and find them all there. And not shattered. Were they ever really broken?   
  
“Teeth,” I repeat. “I have all my teeth.”   
  
“Well, yea.” Bobby laughs. “That was the point of pulling them- wasn’t it?”   
  
“All I needed were pliers,” I remember clips of last night. Very upsetting.   
  
“Well, I’m glad you went to the dentist,” Bobby says.   
  
“I’m not.”   
  
“I am.” Bobby grins. “Because now we get to see you all doped up. It’s cute.”   
  
“Ugh.” I am not ‘cute’. I have never been ‘cute’. Sexy, attractive, and hot- I will take. ‘Cute’ is unacceptable.   
  
“So...” Bobby says once we’re quiet for a while, “Your dad told us how bad off you were.” He says, more seriously than before.   
  
“He knows nothing.” I snicker.   
  
“Daken... I saw you like.. a month ago. Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
Hmm. “I like you too much,” I say.   
  
Bobby grins again. “You like me- huh?”   
  
I nod, turning on my side and balling my fist in the blankets- pulling them to my face.   
  
“Your dad was really worried about you.” He says. “Well- is really worried about you.”   
  
“Uh-hmm,” I mumble, closing my eyes.   
  
“I am too,” Bobby says quietly.   
  
There’s a sound at the foot of the bed, I crack my eyes and see it. “Cat,” I say.   
  
“Cat?” Bobby asks in confusion.   
  
“The cat,” I repeat. “Will you follow it for me? It wants me to jump off of something but I’m too tired to move.”   
  
“It...wants you to jump off of something?” Bobby asks, an edge of worry creeping into his tone.   
  
I nod. “The man sends the cat, the cat leads me. He wants me dead. I don’t know about the cat. I think it just does what he tells it to.”   
  
Bobby is quiet for a long minute. “So... you do what they tell you?” He asks finally.   
  
“I have to,” I say sleepily.   
  
“No, you don’t,” Bobby says.   
  
“You don’t understand.” I yawn.   
  
“I’d like to,” Bobby says, almost sweetly.   
  
I shake my head. “Just send the cat away. I don’t want to move right now.”   
  
“Shoo,” Bobby says kind awkwardly.   
  
The cat crawls under my bed.   
  
“That’ll work,” I say.   
  
“... Did it leave?” Bobby asks.   
  
“It’s under the bed.”   
  
Bobby nods. “I’ll keep a watch out for it- okay?” He says. “So you can go to sleep.”   
  
That’s... sweet. That’s the sweetest anyone’s ever been about the cat. It actually makes me want to tear up by how sweet it is.   
  
“Thank you,” I say.   
  
He nods. “Anytime, Daken.”   
  
I curl more into myself.   
  
Just as I’m going to sleep, I feel the bed move as Bobby lays down beside me.   
  
I feel safe with him there.   
  
I always feel safe with Bobby. Which is odd considering where we started out in our friendship.   
  
Sleeping with an Omega level Mutant is always safe- though.   
  
I like safe.   
  
Safe is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so two things to address. One, you can no longer find me on Tumblr. For a mental health reason I'd rather not go into right here- I had to get off. The account is still active but I no longer have the password and I won't for any time in the foreseeable future. I swear this wasn't because of drama this time and I'm most certainly not blaming it on any of that. This is just a good ol' fashioned mental breakdown. They happen all the time when you're bipolar. We singled out social media as being the main trigger for a lot of reasons- so it was removed from me. If you followed me or we were mutuals- I promise I'm not going silent on you. I literally do not have the passwords at this time. In a few months- I will get it back and things will go back to normal. I promise! 
> 
> Secondly, because of aforementioned mental issue- I am in a partial hospitalization program. It is very draining and I am very worn out by the end of the day. Updates aren't gonna come as quickly as they did. But I'll try to get at least one chapter out every week. If it is late, I beg your patience as y'all- I'm fucking exhausted. This mental relapse has zapped me this time around. 
> 
> Other than that- please enjoy. I love hearing from y'all. Let me know what you think. 
> 
> And since I'm not on Tumblr anymore, please let me know in the comments if something is mistagged. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for sticking it out through my angst fests and emotional minefields. Writing is a really big stress reliever for me and honestly, I'm just so glad someone would actually sit down to read it. Let alone leave kudos or comments. 
> 
> Y'all are the best. I love hearing from all of you. And like I said- please enjoy!


	14. Emotional minefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is VERY emotionally draining. Very sad.  
> Not violent. Not really that sexual (I mean- there's some coupley flirting at the end- but it's not bad). Not really that outwardly upsetting. It's really just emotional. 
> 
> ALSO- I was able to push this chapter out because my program was canceled due to Hurricane Florence- who's parked herself off the coast of my fine state.  
> That being said- I am in one of the areas of SC that the hurricane is going to go through. So, we are expecting power outages. If the power goes out, obviously I will not be able to post anything. I'll have to let y'all know how that goes next week! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I love hearing from y'all and your support means so much to me.  
> Please let me know what you think.  
> (And I am so sorry for the monster dump of angst)! 
> 
> Enjoy!

“And then...” Bobby laughs.   
  
“And then... I ran.” I can see Daken smiling from the doorway, they don’t know I’m here yet. The boy must be distracted.    
  
“You ran??” Bobby grins. “From a zombie-filled mall?? That’s like something out of a video game!”   
  
“Zombies aren’t so bad,” Daken says. "They actually move pretty slow. It's just figuring out how to kill them without getting bit. Once you've got a plan of attack- you're pretty much in the clear."   
  
“That’s easy for you to say,” Bobby says. “You have a healing factor!”   
  
"If it comes to that point- I'll do the killing for you so that your darling little skin doesn't get punctured."   
  
"I do prefer my skin unpunctured." Bobby is grinning.   
  
Daken lays his head on Bobby’s shoulder. I’m not too happy about all the touchy-feely shit... but he sounds happy.   
  
"You tired yet?" Bobby asks.   
  
"Not really," Daken says.   
  
"That sounded pretty tired." Bobby teases.   
  
"Maybe a little." Daken chuckles.   
  
"Your dad's been gone a while," Bobby says.   
  
"Gave me more time to spend with you," Daken says. "Might not be a bad thing."   
  
"Oh oh- Look who’s being sentimental!" Bobby jokes.   
  
"Shut up." Daken is grinning again. "My brain is failing me. I get to be as sentimental as I want. I'm not in my right mind."   
  
Bobby wraps his arm around Daken's shoulders. "You didn't tell Logan... did you?" he says.   
  
Daken shakes his head.   
  
"You didn't tell anyone," Bobby says.   
  
Tell me what exactly?   
  
"You asked me not to," Daken says. "Believe it or not- I can keep secrets."   
  
"Oh, I definitely believe that." Bobby laughs. "So.... are we gonna..."   
  
"Maybe," Daken says.   
  
The hell are they talking about???   
  
"It didn't work last ti-"   
  
"I'm not running off to turn off half my personality this time," Daken says.   
  
I get a feeling that this is something I don't necessarily want to happen.   
  
Even if I don't know what 'this' is at the moment.   
  
"So... it could work?" Bobby asks.   
  
"It could," Daken says. "No one knows."   
  
"I know," Bobby says. "Literally NO ONE knows."   
  
Well... I mean... someone knows now.   
  
"I've kept it out of my thoughts," Daken says. "It's been hard to stay away from you, Snowflake."   
  
"You've honestly not thought of me?" Bobby asks.   
  
"A little." Daken smiles again. "But... you said you didn't want to do anything so I let it go."   
  
"Well I've been thinking about you," Bobby says. "Especially after this morning."   
  
"I'm surprised you waited so long to come see me," Daken says. "I gotta say- when you weren't at my door last night- my feelings were a little hurt."   
  
"Oh yeah?" Bobby grins.   
  
Daken leans into him again. "Could just be my disorder talking." He says.   
  
"No- you were like that before," Bobby says.   
  
They're quiet for a second. "Bobby- I'm sorry I didn't listen," Daken says. "You told me not to do it- and I did it anyway."   
  
Bobby kisses his head- which I'm not sure I'm not sure I'm okay with. "You did what you thought you had to do." He says. "I don't blame you. If my mind was doing that to me- I'd do some pretty drastic things too."   
  
"Logan told me not to have a relationship with anyone," Daken smirks.   
  
"He tried to get me to have one with you so you'd be more comfortable." Bobby laughs.   
  
"Such contradicting orders." Daken shakes his head. "I don't know how you people keep all of this running with someone like Logan in charge."   
  
Bobby sucks in air in a funny way. "We try our best." He says. "Usually Logan's pretty straightforward. I think with this thing that's happened to you-"   
  
"Don't," Daken says. "I'm not sentimental enough to hear it yet."   
  
"That's fine," Bobby says.   
  
"Tell me when my brain is mush," Daken says jokingly.   
  
"I will," Bobby says. "I promise." He squeezes Daken tightly. "You know- being in a real-"   
  
"Shh," Daken says suddenly.   
  
"Uh..."   
  
“Daddy dearest is at the door,” Daken says. "I don't know how long he's been there."   
  
Time to make my appearance I guess.   
  
I kinda get the gist of what was going on here.   
  
Drake likes my kid.   
  
Daken seems to like him.   
  
The two of them seem to like each other.   
  
Bobby semi told him my plan for them getting together this morning- he didn't seem to object too terribly.   
  
But the way they're laying. The way they're talking to each other...   
  
I can't risk this.   
  
If it goes badly- my kid's very sanity is on the line.   
  
I can't allow it.   
  
He's gonna hate me- but I've got to step in.   
  
This was a bad idea from the start.   
  
I thought Bobby would take him out on a few dates. Little romance- nothing more.   
  
But no. No. This will hurt him.   
  
I didn't know about their past.   
  
I didn't know about their 'secret'.   
  
Asking Bobby to go out with him a few times while it was just a crush was one thing.   
  
This.. this ain't a crush.   
  
And as much as Bobby is a good guy and good friend- I know how he ‘ _ date’ _ dates.   
  
Add Daken into the mix...No- not just him- and his disorder into the mix... and the kid's gonna get hurt.   
  
Bobby's a sweet dude. He is. He's a good kid.   
  
But... this is different. This is not what I thought it was.   
  
I regret ever putting that offer on the table.   
  
I opened a door and he walked right through it. And really? I can't blame him for that.   
  
My kid's an attractive man. He's funny when he wants to be. And he's got some interesting... 'quirks'. I can understand why people would want to date him.   
  
But.. this can't happen.   
  
My mind's made up.   
  
I'll deter Bobby an clean up the mess afterword. Talk to them individually. That kind of shit.   
  
Bobby looks up at me with a grin. “Hey, Logan!” He says. “Did you know that Daken has been to every country in the WORLD?”   
  
“No,” I say. “I didn’t.” I lean in the doorway. This is gonna be hard.   
  
"Well- he has," Bobby says. "And zombies?" He turns to Daken. "Zombies?"   
  
"In Africa." Daken nods. He looks a little nervous.   
  
"In Africa," Bobby repeats, turning back to me. "Where've you been?"   
  
"Around," I say. "Doin' some shit."   
  
Bobby gets a look of nervousness too. They can hear it in my voice. In my tone.   
  
I don't want to bring the hammer down on my kid. Really- I don't.   
  
But.... this has gone on far enough.   
  
"What time is it?" Daken asks not looking at me.   
  
"9:20," I tell him.   
  
“Come to drug me then?” He asks.   
  
“I’ve come to medicate you.” I sigh. “Medicate. Not drug- medicate.”   
  
“And what will the poison be tonight? Hmm?”   
  
I look down at the pill bottles in my hand. “Sleep, anxiety, and some psychosis stuff,” I say. “Come here.”   
  
“You come here.” He straightens up in bed.   
  
“Fine.” I walk into his room and go to his side of the bed. He watches me like a hawk. “Here.” I shake one pill out of each bottle. “Take these.”   
  
“Have I told you today how much I hate medication?”   
  
“Yep. And you also talked to the cat again today.” I say. “So... you’re gonna have to deal with it.”   
  
“Why won’t you let the cat go?” He rolls his eyes. "It's like you're obsessed. It's not hurting anyone."   
  
“Because it’s not real- son,” I say. “It’s not real and it makes you hurt yourself.”   
  
“Bobby sent the cat away,” Daken says.   
  
“And... it stayed away?” I ask, a little hopefully but trying not to put too much effort into it.   
  
“No,” Daken says. “It went under the bed.”   
  
“Is it still under the bed?” I ask.   
  
Daken glares at me.   
  
“Pills,” I say. “The ‘drugging’ will continue until the cat stops appearing.”   
  
“What do you know?” He smiles. “The cat is gone.”   
  
“Nice try.” I pick up his right hand and put the pills in his palm.   
  
He glares at them.   
  
“They aren’t going anywhere,” I say.   
  
“Will you leave so I can take them?” He growls.   
  
“Not a chance, kid.” I prop my foot on the bottom rail of his bed, leaning into my knee. “Take those. I’m staying right here.”   
  
He turns to Bobby. “Bobby will watch me take them.” He says.   
  
“Bobby’s leaving,” I say.   
  
“Logan-“   
  
“Bobby’s leaving,” I say to the brunette. "He's done enough."   
  
"God." Daken hisses. "How long were you out there?"   
  
"Long enough," I say.   
  
Bobby looks down at the comforter. "Logan-"   
  
"Look- the two of you have some secret thing going on- it's cool. Whatever. I wanted you to go out on a few dates anyway. Bobby's not a bad person to do that with. But I'm warning the both of you- if you fuck, there will be major consequences." I say. "You can be friends. You can be buddies. You can go on a few dates. You can do all that. But you can't kiss. You can't lie down together. You can't-"   
  
"What?" Daken asks in disbelief.   
  
"You will have consequences if you do anything together," I say, more clearly. "That's as simple as I can make it sound."   
  
"Consequences?" Daken scoffs. "I'm not sixteen. You can't control me like that."   
  
Can't control him- huh?   
  
"Logan- that is really up to Daken," Bobby says. "Really. You know I'm not gonna hurt him. I wouldn't do that. I just... like him. I'm not going to have sex with him while he's sick. But he's not sick all the time. If he's completely lucid then there shouldn't be a-"   
  
He stops when he sees my face.   
  
"Got something to show you," I say.   
  
I fish my phone out of my pocket- placing my thumb on the button that brings the home screen up. I don't take a lot of photos. Never been my thing. But I have a video he might find interesting. "Look at this."   
  
I turn the phone and show them, hitting the play button.   
  
My son's face turns pale.   
  
"That's him-" I say- the sound is turned down."You," I say to my son, "Talking to yourself. Banging your fists and head into the wall. Crying. Screaming."   
  
"Why... why would you show him that?" Daken asks. His voice is hard to read.   
  
"To prove a point," I say.   
  
Bobby takes the phone in his hands. "Oh my god." He says.   
  
"Bobby-"   
  
"He's sick," I say. "You can date him. You can take him out. But if you fuck him- I will take whatever actions I need that need to be taken to ensure that he is safe. Look at him. He is not 'lucid' in that video- is he?"   
  
"God," Bobby repeats, pausing the video.   
  
"Is he?" I repeat.   
  
He shakes his head.   
  
"Can you imagine how badly that would go if he were in a sexual situation with you and he freaked out like that? It's not just upsetting for him. Imagine what sending him into that state would do to you." I say.   
  
"God." He repeats.   
  
"Bobby-" Daken says. "It's not as bad as it-"   
  
"I got more videos," I say. "We can keep going if you want to, son."   
  
Daken has a look I can't place. Scared? Upset? Embarrassed?   
  
"Go on and head out Bobby," I say. "He's got to take his medicine."   
  
Bobby nods. "I uh... I'll see you later." He says to Daken. "You can.. call.. or text.. or ya know. I'll be around." He looks at the phone again, shaking his head before giving it back to me. “I’m downstairs if you need me.” He says, standing to his feet. He leaves the room without saying a word to me.   
  
I can understand why he's a little pissy.   
  
"Why would you do that??" Daken says as soon as Bobby's out the door.   
  
"You can't have sex," I say. "And you're in here all snuggled up with each other, and kissing each other, and being all lovey- it will lead to sex."   
  
"He said dating was your idea!" Daken cries.   
  
"It was," I admit. "But I don't think you're capable of not having sex if you do it. You want to date him- fine. By all means. Go to the movies. Go to the park. Go out to eat- whatever you want to do. But you will be home by 9. You will sleep in your own bed. And you will not have any men or women in this room after 9:10 without supervision."   
  
He inhales deeply. "Why are you doing this?" He asks, pain clear in his voice.   
  
"Because I have to," I say. "I don't want you to be miserable, Daken," I tell him. "But there are things you can and can't do. Sex is something in the 'can't' category. Your mind wouldn't be able to handle it."   
  
"I like him," he says.   
  
"And that's all good and fine," I say. "But you can't sleep with him."   
  
"Why did you show him that?? He won't want to come near me now!"   
  
"I wanted him to know how serious this was," I say.   
  
"But it was your idea!"   
  
"And then he kissed you," I say.   
  
"And?"   
  
"And you can't do that son," I say. "You just can't."   
  
"Why? Why would you do this? Is control really THAT important to you???"   
  
"This ain't about control," I say. "It's about logic. Logically you can't do that right now."   
  
"And what- when I get worse I'll just never be allowed to touch anyone again for as long as I'm alive?" He asks.   
  
"We'll figure something out," I say quietly. "For right now- this is how stuff's got to be. And it sucks. And I'm sorry it sucks- I am. But I've got to look out for you. I've got to look out for you because YOU won't."   
  
He shakes his head. "I hate you." He says. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."   
  
"You're entitled to that opinion."   
  
He stares out his window.   
  
"Now, you got pills to take," I say.   
  
"I'm not doing shit for you." He says, not looking at me.   
  
I stare at my son. “Take the pills,” I order.   
  
“Or what?” He growls, turning back to me. "What on earth could you possibly do to hurt me more than you've already done??"   
  
“You can go sit in a very quiet place until you decide to comply,” I say. "That's up to you."   
  
“Oh so now you’re going to lock me up?” He snorts. “That’s rich.”   
  
“Only if you make me,” I say. “That’s fair if you ask me.”   
  
“Oh it’s ‘fair’ now is it?” He looks at the pills.   
  
“Daken, we are not doing this every time it’s time to dose you,” I say, exhaling slowly. “I’m at the end of my rope with this.”   
  
“Good. Then hang yourself.” He says.   
  
“You’re taking those pills, boy,” I say.   
  
“I can’t hear you over the sound of my not taking these pills.” He says childishly.   
  
"Is this because you don't want to take them or because you're angry about Bobby?"   
  
"Well gosh." he scoffs. "I can't understand why on earth I would be mad enough to not take your poison capsules." He says. "I'll really have to figure this complex emotion out. In fact- why don't you figure it out for me?? I can't wrap my tiny little emotionally stunted brain around it. So please, father, tell me what I'm feeling. Tell me what I can and can't do. You tell ME why I don't want to take the pills. You tell me why I'm reacting like I am. You know so much about me. You know what's best for me. You know-"   
  
"That's enough." I cut him off. "You're working yourself up. Take the pills. Go to bed. That's the end of it."   
  
"I hate you." He says, his voice cracking. "I hate you."   
  
Something in me dies a little every time he says it.   
  
"Take the pills." I have to stay strong. Backing down now will mean that he thinks he can make me back down out of anything. And that? That is a really bad idea to show him that I can be weak.   
  
I hate to say it- I hate to even think it- but I've got to be the strong one here. I've got to be the one who manages to make things work out. I've got to be the one in control. He can't do it. I can't let him do it.   
  
Him being in control had him sleeping under a bridge and jumping off of hotels.   
  
I need to send a message to him. This cannot happen every time it’s time to drug him. It just can’t. He’s got to comply.   
  
"I will take those pills when hell freezes over." He says darkly.   
  
“How are you still so stubborn?” I grouse. "Really- how the fuck are you managing this?? You wake up? Fight. You eat your meals? Fight. You take your medicine? Fight. Showers? Fight. Dressing? Fight. Aren't you exhausted yet?" I say to him.   
  
"I will fight you until my very last breath." He says.   
  
I shake my head. "Take your pills boy. It's time for bed."   
  
"I'm not taking them." He says.   
  
"You are taking them." I counter.   
  
"I. Am. Not. Taking. The. Fucking. Pills." He says slowly.   
  
"Why do you have to be so stubborn, son? These are good for you. I want you to be healthy. You can't honestly be so stubborn that you refuse to care for your own health."   
  
“Let’s let someone come in a drug YOU every four hours.” He says. “See if you don’t get a little ‘stubborn’.”   
  
I look him over. “Will you please just take these?” I ask.   
  
“Hmm...” he looks at the pills. “Nope.” He tosses them over his shoulder- bouncing them off the wall and sending them under the bed. "Do I need to pick those up and do it again so you can record it and show it to all my future lovers??" He asks.   
  
I exhale slowly. Count to twenty. Close my eyes and focus.   
  
“You will pick those up,” I say. “And you will take them.”   
  
“Pick them up?” He laughs. “They’re gone!”   
  
I glare at him. “You’re going to move this bed and find those pills. Then you’re going to take them and put the bed back.”   
  
“Oh, I am?” He grins. “And what gives you that foolish idea?”   
  
“I’m gonna make you.” That sounds simple enough. A simple harmless threat.   
  
He’s got to know that I honestly wouldn’t hurt him. Not over something like this.   
  
Yea- it’s annoying. But he’s not particularly dangerous right now.   
  
“What’re you going to do? Yank me out of bed?”   
  
“I will take your bed away and you’ll lay on the floor,” I say.   
  
“Wow, Dad! I didn’t know having somewhere to sleep was a privilege in your house!” He mocks.   
  
“It is when my bratty son refuses to take the medication he’s been given.”   
  
“How do we even know these meds are good for me??” He says.   
  
“We’re going off hope,” I say, motioning to the bed. “Now get to it.”   
  
“No.” He says.   
  
“Daken..”   
  
“No- I won’t do it.” He insists, crossing his arms.   
  
“Stand up, move the bed, pick the pills up, and take them,” I say.   
  
“No.” He repeats.   
  
“Son-“   
  
“NO.” He says firmly.   
  
I walk to the headboard of the bed on the side he’s on, and yank it back from the wall.   
  
He looks stunned.   
  
The pills are easy enough to find. A little oblong orange one, a capsule with red and blue on each end, and a round white tablet. They didn’t go terribly far from each other. And even if they did- I could sniff them out. The chemicals that they’re made of are easily detectable.   
  
I pick up the pills and scoot the bed back to the wall, looking at him. “Got em,” I say. “Open up.”   
  
“Fuck you.” He growls.   
  
“Open wide,” I say- kinda egging him on, to be honest.   
  
He glares at me for a long minute.   
  
“Do I need to do an airplane?” I ask.   
  
Daken exhales loudly and holds his hand out.   
  
“Here.” I pass them over. “You’ve got a bottle of water on your nightstand.”   
  
He leans over and picks up the clear bottle, unscrewing the blue cap and setting it back down.   
  
He’s complying. The boy is actually complying.   
  
He hesitates with his hand to his lips. “Do I really have to?” He asks, much quieter than before.   
  
“Yea.” I nod. “You do.”   
  
“Can you make an exception?” He asks.   
  
“No.”   
  
Not a single time.   
  
“And this is because of the cat?”   
  
“Among other things,” I tell him.   
  
“Like...”   
  
“The fact that you tried to take a hacksaw to your wrist last night?” I say. “How’s the man in the shadows?”   
  
“He’s fine,” Daken says quietly.   
  
“Did he talk to you today?”   
  
He nods.   
  
“A lot?”   
  
He nods again.   
  
“When?”   
Daken looks at me and then puts the pills on his tongue- swallowing some water to wash them down.   
  
“They’re swallowed.” He says. “Now leave.”   
  
Instead of backing off- I sit on his bed, right beside him. “I know this seems unfair to you,” I say.   
  
“It’s very unfair.” He says. "You're ruining my life."   
  
“But it’s for the best,” I assure him.   
  
“If this happened to Laura or Gabby would you act like this? Manhandle them at all hours of the day? Force them to do things they don’t want to?”   
  
“Yes,” I say honestly. “I would.”   
  
Daken swallows again, looking up at the ceiling. “Why did you step in?” He asks, not looking at me. “Why did you have to fucking step in? Why now? I don’t need you. I was doing fine on my own. I was-“   
  
His voice does this weird cracking thing.   
  
I don’t know what’s going on with him.   
  
“I needed you before.” He says. “You weren’t there. Don’t think that you can show up now and play the big hero for taking care of me. You’re still a shitty father. You’ll always be a shitty father.”   
  
“Because I wasn’t there for you?” I ask quietly.   
  
Daken nods. “I’m tired. I want you to go.”   
  
“Not yet.” I look him over- noticing that he’s curled in on himself. “Daken... I know I wasn’t there.” I say. “But-“   
  
“You were there for Kitty.” He says, sounding emotionless.   
  
“What?” I’m thrown.   
  
“You were there for Kitty.” He says. “And Jubilee, and Laura, and Armor, and Gabby, and your inter-dimensional children, and-“ He stops. “Everyone but me.”   
  
“Son...” How do I even explain that? I mean- looking through his perspective- poor boys got the short of the stick when it came to all of his siblings. Even the ones I didn’t really adopt. "I'm sorry." Is all I can think to say. "I know it seems like that-"   
  
"It's exactly like that." He says. "You just make my life miserable. If you didn't want me you shouldn't have knocked my mother up. If you didn't want US you shouldn't have married her."   
  
"Your momma was a wonderful woman," I say. "I loved her very much."   
  
"No, you didn't." He says. "You don't love anyone."   
  
"That's not true-"   
  
"Oh." He hits his forehead with his hand. "I remember. You love your other children. Tell me is it because you hate me for being the reason she was killed? Is it because I'm not like her? is it because you have to look at me and see your failure-"   
  
"No, no." I shush him. "Where is this coming from? It's not like that at all."   
  
"I just want to be happy," he says. "Please. let me be happy."   
  
"You can be happy," I say gently. "You just... have to learn some rules."   
  
"Why do you hate me?" He asks. "Why do you do this to me? No one else gets this level of 'attention'. Laura was a fucking prostitute and you did nothing! My brain goes a little off the tracks and I've got to live with you."   
  
"Daken- please," I say. "Calm down."   
  
"You hate me. You hated her. You hated us. I'm a reminder of all the things that made your life miserable." He says. His voice cracks again.   
  
"I don't hate you." I try to calm him down. "And I definitely didn't hate her. My life wasn't miserable. I was happy. Really, really, really happy."   
  
"You're an unfeeling bastard." He says. "You're only doing this to soothe your own guilt."   
  
How long has he been holding on to this?   
  
"How long have you been feeling like this?" I ask him.   
  
“I want you to go.” He says again.   
  
“No, let’s talk about this.”   
  
“I don’t want to talk about it!” He yells- out of nowhere.   
  
“It’s upsetting you so you obviously do,” I say.   
  
“I am here because you are obligated,” Daken says. “This is nothing like what you would do for Laura or Gabby or.. god anyone. This is your fucked up way of dealing with me. And I hate you for it. I hate you for leaving me. I hate you for leaving my mother. I hate you for letting Romulus torture me for all those years. I hate you for having this big heart for everyone else in the world besides me.” he says. “Now go.”   
  
I go to stand up, but I hear just the faintest sniff.   
  
“Daken,” I walk over to the head of the bed. “Look-“   
  
“GO AWAY!” He yells.   
  
This is a mood swing. A really bad mood swing. I can’t leave him like this.   
  
I don’t know what to do. This isn’t my strong suit.   
  
“I love you,” I say. “I’ve always loved you. I will always love you. You are a special part of someone I loved very dearly.”   
  
“Obligation.” He says.   
  
“What?”   
  
“You’re obligated to my mother. That’s why you took me in. You want to make amends. If you want to make amends so badly- send me to her.” He says. He does that sniffing thing again.   
  
It takes a minute for it to click.   
  
Fuck. He’s crying. Or trying not to- at any rate.   
  
Part of me wants to run for the hills at the thought of the emotional minefield I’m about to hit but a bigger more protective parts want to take care of him.   
  
“I am obligated,” I admit.   
  
He nods, not looking at me.   
  
“To you,” I say.   
  
“What?” He sounds thrown.   
  
“I’m obligated to you. I owe you this. You deserve a roof over your head, and people to help you, and food, and medication you don’t have to pay for, and guidance for becoming whatever it is you’re going to be down the road. If you change? Good for you. If you wanna stay the same...well just don’t stab anybody.” I say. “I am obligated, as a shitty father, to make this better. And it’s not even an obligation.” I look at him, noticing how he looks away in quick jerky movements. “It’s a privilege,” I say.   
  
That just about breaks him. I can hear it.   
  
“I don’t need you here! I don’t want to be here! Let me go!” He says. “Send me away. Murder me. Lock me in a closet and never speak of me again. Just don’t pretend like you care.”   
  
“I do care,” I say.   
  
“Stop saying that!” He orders, I hear his voice crack.   
  
“Why are you so scared of someone caring about you?” I ask   
  
“You’re lying. Lying to make yourself feel better.” He sniffs.   
  
“Daken... do you... need a hug? A tissue? What do you need here?”   
  
He goes rigid.   
  
“I can do both...” I say awkwardly.   
  
“I want you to go.” He says.   
  
“I’m not going.” I get up from the bed and pull the chair over to the headboard, taking a seat. I can see his face now. He’s obviously trying not to be upset.   
  
“Why are you doing this?” He says, his tone more broken than I’ve ever heard it. “Why are you pretending so hard??”   
  
“I’m not pretending,” I say sincerely. “I’m being completely honest with you.”   
  
“Bullshit!” He yells.   
  
He’s wavering to between total despair and blind anger. I’ve got to find a way to meet him in the middle.   
  
“What brought all this up?” I ask. “Have you just been... stewing on it since you got here?”   
  
“More or less.” He says.   
  
“You know it’s okay to express emotions,” I say. “Happy, angry, confused, scared... sad?”   
  
“Fuck you.” It’s like watching a dog raise its hackles.   
  
“I love you,” I repeat. “It’s not an obligation, it’s not something you have to earn, it’s not something that can be taken away. You’re my son. My only son. I’m not letting you rot in some institution, or closet, or grave. In fact, if anything, last night should have proved that I’m trying to keep you OUT of the grave.”   
  
He sniffs again.   
  
“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s okay... it’s all okay.”   
  
“No, it’s not.” He says, rubbing at his eyes. “Nothing is ‘okay’. Nothing will ever be ‘okay’ again. I wish you’d never come into my life. I wish I’d never gone after you. I wish you’d never even met my mother! I wish I wasn’t even here to have to deal with any of this!”   
  
I lean over and stroke his arm- the closest thing I can reach. “You’re suicidal,” I say. "Right? That's what this is? You want to be dead?   
  
He stares at me. His eyes are so so watery. He just needs to let it out. He needs someone to listen to him. Comfort him even. He just... doesn’t know how to ask for it.   
  
He nods ever so slightly.   
  
“Yea?”   
  
He nods again.   
  
“You need someone to stay with you?” I ask.   
  
He goes rigid again.   
  
“Take that as a ‘yes’,” I say, patting his arm a few times. “You need to work on telling me what you need. I’m not psychic and I’m an extremely bad guesser.”   
  
He wipes his eyes again. They don’t get any less watery.   
  
Those pills should kick in soon. Feasibly I could leave him and let them do their job.   
  
But.. then I’d literally be letting my kid cry himself to sleep. I have a feeling he’s done that one too many times in his life.   
  
"I don't want you dead," I say. "I don't want you miserable either."   
  
He looks straight ahead.   
  
"You've got to meet me halfway," I say. "Things are only gonna get better if you stop hissing and spitting and punching everytime we hit something like this. I understand that you weren't allowed to feel." I say. "I do. More than anyone. I understand that you weren't allowed to express anything but anger and hate. I understand that you don't know how to process these things. But that's what we're all here for." I say.   
  
"Except for Bobby."   
  
I bite my tongue. "We will... talk to the doctor... about you seeing Bobby," I say. "That's me meeting you halfway."   
  
He looks surprised.   
  
"Okay?" I ask.   
  
He doesn't know what to say. I can see it on his face.   
  
"Okay," I answer for him. "Let me tell you something- I am only looking out for you. My whole job is to look out for you. That bastard- the man who made you, the man who ruined both of our lives? He did not look out for you. He hurt you so badly and warped your view so much that you honestly can't tell when someone is trying to help. I care about you, Daken." I say. "And I want to help."   
  
He keeps looking ahead. "It hurts." He says randomly.   
  
"Yea?" I know what he's talking about without him having to explain it. The hurt is something I carried around with me for half a century. "I know it does."   
  
"I just want it to stop." He says.   
  
"I know you do." I soothe. "I know it."   
  
"Then make it stop." He begs. "Please."   
  
"I will," I say. "In a way you don't understand yet. That you can't. What's happening to you goes against everything you were raised on. People care about you. Full-heartedly and without ulterior motives. We just care. Accept that."   
  
"I.. don't know how." He says.   
  
"I know you don't," I say. "But you'll learn."   
  
He goes quiet.   
  
"I'm gonna take care of you," I tell him. "I'm going to make sure it doesn't hurt as bad."   
  
He nods.   
  
"Okay," I say. "You need to get ready to go to sleep."   
  
"I'm fine." He says.   
  
"You're wearing sneakers," I tell him.   
  
He shrugs.   
  
"You've got to get ready for bed," I say. "It'll help calm you down."   
  
"I don't want to move," he says.   
  
"Sure you do." I chuckle. "You're not going to sleep like that. I know you well enough to know that you'll at least want to brush your hair. "   
  
He doesn't respond.   
  
“You sure you don't wanna get changed for bed?” I ask.   
  
“Yes.” He says, sounding numb.   
  
“You wanna brush your teeth?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Hair?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Shower?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“...eat?” I ask.   
  
He’s extremely quiet.   
  
Did he eat dinner?   
  
Fuck. He didn't.   
  
And he just took all those pills on an empty stomach.   
  
Good job Logan. Dad of the year award.   
  
“You’re.. hungry?” I prompt him.   
  
He nods.   
  
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.   
  
“You didn’t say we were eating. I assumed we weren’t.”   
  
“Why would you assume that because I didn’t expressly tell you we were eating that you wouldn’t eat?”   
  
He stares out the window.   
  
I grab my phone out my pocket and text Ro. Asking her to bring him something.   
  
I get a reply immediately saying she’ll be right up.   
  
“Ro’s bringing you something from the kitchen,” I say, putting my phone away.   
  
“Thanks.” He says numbly.   
  
I pull the blankets up to his shoulder. “Kicked your shoes off at least?” I ask him.   
  
“No.”   
  
I nod, standing up and going to the foot of the bed, raising up the comforter and starting to unlace his borrowed tennis shoes.   
  
I’m so focused on my task that I don’t hear Ro come in.   
  
She doesn’t wait for an invitation. She goes straight to his head- which is not a good idea- and passes him a bowl of what smells like ice cream. “We didn’t have any actual food.” She says. “I hope this will do the trick.” She smiles and hands him a spoon.   
  
“And what do we say?” I prompt him again.   
  
“Thank you.” He says emotionlessly.   
  
“It’s not a problem at all.” She smiles, walking back to the door. “Logan, a word if you would after he goes to sleep.” She says.   
  
“Sure thing darlin’.”   
  
She smiles from the door. “Goodnight Daken.” She says.   
  
“Goodnight.” He says quietly.   
  
He manages to eat while not moving from his curled up spot. It takes some real talent.    
I let him do so in quiet- hoping to give him some sort of privacy.   
  
He puts the spoon in the bowl and closes his eyes.   
  
“Goodnight, Kid,” I say, taking the bowl and the spoon. “I promise it’s going to be okay,” I say. “I will make it okay again.”   
  
His eyes stay closed and his body uncurls form it’s crunched position to something more natural.   
  
“Needed some calories... huh?” I chuckle.   
  
He doesn't respond.   
  
I turn his light out on my way out the room, watching from the doorway. Kid doesn't stir. he doesn't toss. He doesn't turn.   
  
He's exhausted.   
  
Ro's still standing in the hallway- wearing that shirt and skirt combo I like so much. She leans against the wall.   
  
"I had an interesting talk with a very upset Bobby," she says.   
  
I nod.   
  
"Did you tell him this morning he should date Daken... and then tell him tonight that he couldn't?" She asks.   
  
"Yea."   
  
"Why?" She asks raising an eyebrow.   
  
"I... don't know," I say honestly. "I saw them together... I heard them talking... I heard-"   
  
"Daken is not in any danger of getting hurt by Bobby." She says. "If anything, he could be happier if you just let this go and run its course."   
  
I shrug. "Maybe."   
  
Ro exhales slowly. "Can I sleep in your room tonight?" She asks randomly.   
  
"Sure darlin'." I smile.   
  
She returns my smile. "We'll have another discussion about why Daken can't have a normal functional relationship." She says. "After you've had some time to unwind."   
  
"Unwind?"   
  
"You're tense." She says sweetly. "I figured you could use an ear."   
  
I smirk. "Am I only using your ear?"   
  
Ro's eyes hold a sense of mischief. "You can use whatever part of me you like." She whispers. "Provided you do it well enough."   
  
"I must have been very good today." I tease.   
  
"Like I said- you need to unwind." She moves from the wall and wraps her arms around my shoulder. "Besides." She says. "Daddy Wolverine is very, very hot." She says. "Watching you parent like this has moved me in ways you can't even begin to imagine."   
  
"Yea? I like the sound of that."   
  
She smiles. "Come show me how much you like it?" She puts a lilt to her voice.   
  
  
I check back in Daken's room. "He'll be out like a light," I say. "We can close the door for about an hour."   
  
"And hour should suffice." She says, letting me go and taking my hand, basically pulling me into my own bedroom.   
  
Tonight's been a bit of a rollercoaster. But this? This ain't a bad end.   
  
Much better than last night- at any rate.


	15. Shopping with Gabby, the horrible sleepover, morphine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide attempt. Overdosing. Family drama. Shopping with a preteen ( a horror unto itself). Talk of a medical aide. Pills. Painkillers. Vomit. Medical inaccuracies ( I live in my own world where I do very little research because I am very tired. :P ) Talk of institutions. Talk of Hallucinations. Protective little sisters. Forced nail clipping. Blood. Mentioned eye-clawing. Arguing of the dramatic variety. And more angst than a body can handle. 
> 
> I really think that's it. This one's a little sad and very dark. So please be careful!   
> HOWEVER- I am setting up for some really cute coupley shit. So stay tuned and I promise to deliver the goods!   
> Thanks for reading!   
> Luckily, the hurricane did not hit my part of the state- so I was able to ride everything out with great ease.   
> Leave me a kudos or a comment if you're so obliged!

Taking Gabby shopping is the absolute worst experience of my life. And that's saying something.

Usually when I shop it’s- okay this is black. This is blue. This is red. These are boots. These are black boots. These are blue boots. I won’t say ‘these are red boots’ because I would never wear red boots. My point is- it’s simple. This is what you want. These are the color options. Pick one and move on.

Gabby? Oh no. It’s not like that for Gabby.

There are a million child options in any given store.

But she won’t take them. She says she has a very specific ‘brand’.

I asked what the brand was and she said it was not a brand of clothing... it was a brand of Gabby.

I’ll admit that I didn’t know what to do with that information.

So we’ve been shopping for three hours now as Gabby attempts to ‘discover’ her brand.

Aisle after aisle we walk down- her tapping her chin with her finger and making remarks about ‘quality’ and ‘unique textures’.

So far, in our lonely little cart, we have two pairs of leggings- one blue and yellow, one bright blue- a pair of black sneakers, and a cowboy hat made of faux alligator skin.

I cannot get her to drop the hat.

She said if nothing else is found tonight- the hat is coming home with us.

I don’t know where she would wear it to exactly- but she says she has ‘plans’.

I shudder to think of what those might entail.

While I wait outside of the fitting room, I play around on my phone.

The store is large and poorly lit- as are most department stores. Honestly, if we could afford it, I'd like to take her somewhere better. I think shopping with Daken has rubbed on me some. It's not that these clothes are bad- they're just cheap. They're going to wear out quickly.

Especially considering how hard Gabby is on her clothing.

As she is now- they don't stand a chance.

She's been through a pair of leggings once a week for the last month.

Part of it is her 'superhero'. Yes- I agree. That is hard on articles of clothing.

The other part is how she plays with Jonathan.

I'm not one to fret over clothes- no. But I do fret over how much money clothes cost.

For the amount I pay- I'd like to know that they're going to last her.

My phone is nearly dead.

I can't remember to charge it at night.

Not that it would have helped me any. Gabby and I have been out all day.

The screen is warm from my fingers.

As I go through my apps- email, social media, news-there’s a text I wasn’t expecting. I smile when I see it.

I can't help it.

After today it just seems so normal.

We need a normal ending for once.

My brothers texted and asked that we join him tomorrow. He promises no drama.

I don’t think ‘no drama’ is feasible.

The fitting room in the store is a small area of wooden stalls with blue curtains in front of them. To the right of the doors is a desk with a larger woman in a blue vest standing behind it on the telephone. She's the one to make sure nothing is stolen.

To the left of the desk are three racks of clothing- things that have been tried on and didn't fit.

I know Gabby has attributed to at least one of the little racks on her own. Which says something.

I'd imagine the woman behind the counter is slightly annoyed with us.

It is getting late, after all. And it's a Monday night. I'm sure everyone would like to go home. I've told Gabby to hurry five times now. She refuses to 'rush the process'.

Daken's text buzzes again- the phone reminding me that it's there.

I text back a simple “we would love to.”

A morning with my family seems simple enough. You can never be too sure with my family though. We're a little... violent. Hot-headed- I think is the word most people use. When we gather in a group- it's usually loud and messy.

The screen in my hand shows that he’s texting back. “He was nice.” His message says.

A little random- yes. But I know who the 'he' is.

Hmm... did he and our father have a moment? “Who?” I text. I'll try to gain information without pushing him. I know it- but he's got to tell me.

If he wants to have a breakthrough with our father- I'm not going to be the one to stand in his way. He needs a relationship with Logan. Even if he doesn't necessarily want one. It needs to happen.

But I won't force it. I'll let him tell me when he's ready.

“Logan.” He texts back immediately before texting again. “He was nice.”

So they did have a moment.

How should I proceed?

Asking what they talked about is too much. Too personal for Daken.

Not asking enough seems too cold. He might think I'm not listening and not feel comfortable talking to me anymore. I can't have that.

So I try to keep it cool and not give anything away but still seem connected enough to.. well... connect with him.

Ugh. My brain is moving so slow tonight. I need another pot of coffee.

“He is on many occasions,” I tell my brother, looking up from the screen to see where Gabby is and what she’s doing.

God. The cowboy hat now has matching boots. Where did she even get those????

“Not to me,” Daken replies. “He was.. nice. And caring."

It's not usual for Daken to double text. The fact that he's done it so much tonight really alludes to something being a little off with him.

"He was nice." He adds under it.

The message is abrupt. It's not like him to leave a thought hanging like that.

I wait about ten minutes before asking “Daken?”

His phone shows he’s texting, but when he hits send- it’s just a stream of gibberish.

I stare at it trying to decipher what he’s trying to tell me.

"What?" I text back.

The bubbles on the left side of the screen that denote someone typing reappears.

The next message is much more legible. “Your brother fell asleep with his phone on.” It reads. “I’m taking it for the night so it doesn’t wake him up. He’s got a bunch of random alarms going off at all hours of the night. Swing by in the morning if you want. I’m trying to get him to have a ‘civilized’ meal with us.”

That sounds... interesting to say the least.

“That sounds good,” I reply.

“Thought it would.” He texts back immediately. “Daken was supposed to be asleep three hours ago.” He says. “If he texts you after 9- don’t text him back. He needs to be sleeping.”

Logan's as bad at double and triple texting as Daken is tonight.

Logan's the kind of texter who will not let you get a word in. He hates using cellphones on principle but when he does- he uses it to it's fullest potential.

I sigh. “Got it.”

I put the phone up just as Gabby walks out again, an arm full of clothes.

“These are all 100% Gabrielle Kinney approved.” She smiles wide.

The lady sitting behind the desk next to the changing rooms looks bored and annoyed at my little sister.

I wish she'd be more pleasant to young people.

I glance over the stack in her arms.

“That’s a lot of bright colors,” I note.

“Bright colors are all the rage this spring in Paris.” She says, sticking her hip out a little. "I'm nothing if not a fashionista."

“It’s... October.” I say with some amusement.

“And? I planning ahead!” She huffs. “Let’s go check out!’ She leads the way to the cash registers, all the way from the back of the poorly lit store to the front. Being a department store- it's kind of a treck. She pushes the cart with pride as we make our way blue and black registers, striking up a conversation with the middle-aged woman running it. When everything’s rung up- an impressive 200 dollars that I did not want to spend- she turns to me. “Money?”

I take out my blue debit card and hand it to the woman- who stays silent as we wait for the transaction to go through. She looks as though she’s expecting it to be declined. I’m a little annoyed by her expression, but keep it to myself.

This store has not really shown a lot of trust towards the young. I can't stand it- but I don't want to cause a fuss when we could be leaving.

When the card reader beeps and a receipt is printed, she smiles a fake smile and hands me three large bags.

“Thanks!” Gabby takes the bags from me and smiles. “You’re the best sister ever!”

That makes me smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

I have a feeling Daken didn’t share her sentiment earlier this morning.

I think of him as we walk to the car.

So much of this could have been handled in a better fashion... but even I can’t deny that he is where he needs to be.

He just... doesn't seem to know what to do right now.

He's only been with our father for a little under two days and he's already miserable. What can we possibly do to alleviate that when it's the only option that's in his best interest??

My car is one of the last ones in the parking lot.

We've been here far longer than I anticipated.

I put the bags in the trunk and watch my sister climb into the passenger seat.

Once we pull out of the parking lot on onto the eerily empty road, I notice that something.. not quite right.

Gabby is a little quieter in the car than she was in the store.

Almost subdued, really.

She's had random bouts of quietness since the dentist's office today.

I know it's got something to do with Daken... I just don't know how to ask her.

“Laura..?” She asks as we’re driving.

She hasn’t played with the radio or the windows. This is completely different from normal vehicular Gabby behavior.

“Yes?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.

She looks at me. “Can we stop by the school? Please?"

“Why?” I ask curiously. The school is a little out of the way from our apartment.

Plus it's a Monday night- the children will have class tomorrow and Gabby will be bored and begging to attend.

We don't have time for her to play 'school'.

Going for breakfast is one thing, but the two of us have things to do tomorrow. We can't waste a whole day.

“Just cause.” She says. “I want to sleep there tonight.”

Hmm... okay. That's not an extremely odd request. She likes to sleep there from time to time. It's not like Logan doesn't have space.

I just need to know why she wants to do so tonight. Like I said- we've got things to do tomorrow. Going to the school tonight will put us behind schedule.

“Why?” I ask again.

“I... want to be near Daken.” She confesses. “In case he needs us. I've.. got a bad feeling. I don't think he's okay.”

Well... I mean.. she could have worse reasons. And it's not like I haven't been thinking of him myself. The thing with Gabby is that she doesn't have a selfish bone in her body. If she thinks our brother needs her- she has no ulterior motive. She's just going to check on him. “I’ll have to ask Logan,” I say after a small pause.

“Already asked him!” She says cheerfully, tone changing. “He said it was okay as long as we didn’t try to wake him up.”

I guess... it couldn’t hurt.

I mean... we have a good reason.

And... I'll be honest- I'm going to be worried about him as well.

“We don’t have any clothes to change into,” I say.

“Among my many outfits are some pajamas for you, too!” She says.

She really has planned this all out.

“Okay,” I say. “But you can absolutely not step in when Logan is handling him in the morning,” I say. “Alright?”

She nods.

“And you can’t wake him.”

“Psht.” She pushes her hand through the air- as if refusing the notion. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Daken was cranky if you woke him up before his brain went to mush- I wouldn’t test it now.”

“Good,” I say with a smile.

I’m pulling up the exit that will lead to our father’s school- going over every little detail of what this sleepover could entail.

I shouldn’t do this.

He needs his rest. And more importantly- he needs to get acclimated to his new home. Get used to a schedule. All of that.

But... I find myself taking the exit anyway.

“Alright!” Gabby cheers, going to the radio dial and putting it on a heavy rock station.

We drive the remaining twenty minutes to the sound of men screaming into a microphone with heavy guitars blaring behind them.

It’s an interesting sound, to say the least.

As we pull up to the gates, I turn the music down.

“We’re going to be quiet going in,” I tell her.

“Got it.” She nods.

I park the car in the garage- amongst my father’s many vehicles.

I have to make a note to get him to check the engine later. It’s been making some odd noises. And admittedly- as much as it pains me to admit- I don’t know much about engines.

Gabby shoots out the car and into the school- leaving me behind.

“Gabby.” I groan, getting out and retrieving her many bags out of the trunk.

I enter the school through the side entrance, starting my short trek up the stairs.

I’m heading to my room when I hear something. Whispering.

I turn around and see Gabby in the doorway of a room that has no door.

“Gabby!” I hiss.

She turns to me, putting her finger on her lips and shushing.

“Gabby-“ I hiss again. “Get over here!”

She shakes her head.

“It’s okay.” A voice is saying from the room. “Relax. It’s okay.”

I recognize Logan’s voice and the soft sound of someone crying.

“It’s okay.” He repeats. “It’s okay. Nightmares happen. It’s okay.”

Interested, I join Gabby at the door.

The room is dark and only lit by the light pouring in through the door.

Logan turns to us- Not happy with us being here but not upset about it either.

Daken is crying and speaking softly- terrified to be honest- in a litany of mixed Japanese and English.

The word he keeps repeating is ‘monster’. Over and over again in both languages.

“There’s no monster,” Logan says quietly. “You’re okay.”

Daken sobs- I don’t think he knows where he is. Or that other people are with him in the room.

“Shh. You’re okay. He can’t get you here.”

More broken sentences.

“Calm down,” Logan says. “Just breathe.”

His voice is quiet and calming.

It’s a tone that few people get to hear.

Slowly the sobbing stops.

“There you go.” Logan soothes. “There you go. Nothing can hurt you here. You’re as safe as you can be.”

The room gets quiet.

“Get out.” Is said in a raspy voice. He’s lost his voice.

“Are you okay?” Logan asks.

“I’m fine,” Daken says. “Leave.”

“You were just clawing your eyes out,” Logan says. “You need to wash this blood off of you.”

Daken groans before muttering something like ‘again’?

“Go wash the blood off.” Logan insists.

“It’s fine until morning,” Daken says dismissively.

“No- it’s not. Go wash the blood off.” Logan orders.

Daken pulls his covers back- standing to the floor.

He makes it three steps before noisily vomiting onto the hardwood.

Logan is at his side immediately.

“I don’t need your help!” Daken snaps, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Let me-“

“Go away!”

Logan says quietly, “Why are you bleeding so much?”

“Leave me alone!” He orders.

Logan turns to me. “Turn the light on- Laura.” He says.

I reach my hand in the room, feeling around on the side of the wall and hit the light switch.

Daken is covered in blood. His face- is, at any rate.

“Did you scratch yourself before I got in here?” Logan asks.

“No,” Daken says.

“Daken- I need you to tell me the truth.”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding.

“Where did you scratch yourself?” Logan asks.

“Just my face.”

It looks like it- it honestly does.

“Okay,” Logan says. “Go wash up. I’m gonna go get some nail clippers.”

“What?” Daken sounds thrown.

“Gonna cut your nails.” He says.

“You will do no such thing,” Daken growls.

“I’m sorry I’m not good enough to give you a manicure,” Logan smirks. “But you are getting your nails cut. And that’s the end of it.”

"I am not."

"You are too," Logan says.

"I am not!" Daken insists.

"Ya- you are. Let me go get the clippers. This will be over before you know it."

Daken lets out a yell of frustration, looking at the ceiling.

“Fuss all you want,” Logan says, patting his shoulder. “Stay put. Wash your face. I’ll be back.”  
He comes to the door. “Watch him- will ya?” He asks, walking past us.

I hesitate at the door- but Gabby pushes past me as soon as Logan leaves.

Daken sits on the edge of his bed- looking a little distraught.

Depressed is a better word.

He's depressed about something.

I doubt it's got anything to do with his nails. That's just how he's masking it. Daken is good at that- masking his emotions. But he's slipping. Or starting to slip. We're able to get past his walls more. To see past his masks.

He lives two separate lives. The one we see- and the one he sees. The one he sees is the real one- the one where he's bared to the bone and raw. The one we see is what he presents himself as- trying to hide the way he is with the way he wants us to think he is.

He's good at it. He's had many decades of practice. But as his disorder grows- he gets less and less practiced at it. Less controlled. In the end- I think we'll all see exactly what's going on. he won't have a choice but to show us. I think that scares him. If I were in his position I know I would be scared.

There's nothing we can do to alleviate that fear. it's going to happen. It is literally just a matter of time.   
And time? Time is running out. The doctor gave him three weeks- and those days are passing by faster and faster.

"Hey," Gabby says.

"Hey," he repeats quietly.

This is probably not a good place for Gabby to be right now.

She reaches out and takes his hand- which surprises me that he lets her.

"I got a bad feeling and I had to come check on you," she says. "Ya know- cause I only get one big brother?"

"I'm fine," he says.

“Your nails are pretty sharp.” She says with a laugh.

He nods.

“I’m glad your eyes healed.”

He looks at her. “Me too.” He says.

“They’re really pretty.” She says.  
He bites his lip and looks out the window.

“Do you want help getting some of the blood off?” She asks.

“No thank you.” He says emotionlessly.

“Do you want something for your stomach?”

He looks back at her. “That would be appreciated.” He says. "Can you go fetch something for me?"

Something is wrong.

He's sending her away.

He's trying to get her out of here.

Normally that would be fine to take at face value- he needs medication for his stomach. But this? I get this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something is wrong.

“Cool. I’ll tell Logan.” She squeezes his hand before letting go. “Be right back!” She turns and walks to the door. “He needs some anti-puke pills.” She says.

“Have Logan-“

He vomits again- loudly.

I’m starting to get a little suspicious.

He looks at me and then quickly looks away.

His room is small- like I knew it would be. Not very many personal belongings.

To the side of his dresser is a small book- looking like a sketchbook of some sort. Or a journal. I can't really tell from this distance.

Daken vomits more violently.

I make sure Gabby is down the hall before entering.

I walk over to him. “Are you alright?” I ask.

“I’m fine.” He says, wiping his mouth again. "Please leave. I have to clean up."

Now he's sending me away?

He never sends me away.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask.

He nods. "I'm fine."

“If you’re su-“

He vomits again time. At this distance with the light on- I see that it’s filled with blood. In fact- the vomit on the floor is also bloody. “What did you drink?” I ask him gravely.

He bites his lip again.

Gabby was right. I was right.

He did something,

He did something while Logan thought he was sleeping.

“Daken- what did you drink??” I demand.

He shakes his head and vomits again.

“Was it after Logan put you to bed?” I ask.

He nods.

“Was it poison?”

He shakes his head.

"Medication?"

He nods again.

“How much?”

He just vomits, clutching his stomach.

“Where is it?”

He shakes his head.

“Daken- where is it?” I ask again.

“Under the pillow.” He says, almost in a whisper.

I reach under his pill and pull out a small bottle of pills- empty. the label has been torn off. I guess he thought if he got caught he could slow us down if we didn't know what the bottle originally contained. “Where did you get this?” I ask.

“Dentist office.” He says before puking again.

"How full was it?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Leave," he whispers. "Please. I want this."

"No, you don't," I growl. "How full was the bottle?"

"Full," he says- puking again.

“This was a suicide attempt?” I ask the obvious.

I need to hear that this was a mistake. I need to hear that it was an accident. That he was trying to get high. That he was in pain.

Anything.

I need to hear that this isn't what it looks like.

He nods- which drains the hope I had been loosely holding onto in my mind.

“Well, it’s not going to work,” I say a little darkly. “Stay here.”

I go out into the hall and run into my father almost immediately.

Without saying a word, I hand him the small brown bottle.

He stares at it a moment before nodding and going back to the room. “Come on.” He says.

Daken vomits again.

I expect him to get loud.

To my surprise, he says, "It's okay kid. Focus on me."

Daken pukes again.

“I know.” He says. “We’re gonna go see Hank. He’ll fix that.”

He shoulders most of Daken’s weight as he helps him to his feet.

"I want this." Daken groans. "Please- I want this."

"Shh," Logan says. "You don't know what you're saying." When they get to the doorway Logan nods to me. “Run ahead and get Hank.” He says. “Give him the bottle. Tell him your brother’s puking his guts up.”

I nod- doing as I’m told and taking off at a jog.

The rooms pass by- all the doors closed for the evening.

As I'm running- I see a few telepaths stick their heads out the door.

Mental disturbance- most likely.

Jean catches my eyes. "Everything okay?" she asks.

I shake my head and keep moving.

Hank’s room is nearest the staircase.

I knock on the door without hesitation.

By the fifth knock- a very sleepy Beast answers the door, adjusting his glasses on his muzzle.

“Laura? What in the world are you doing here at this time of night?”

I point back down the hall. “Daken took some kind of medication. He said he got it at the dentist office. He’s very ill.” I hand him the small bottle.

He inspects it for a moment.

“Is your father bringing him to the med wing?” He asks.

I nod.

“Then let’s go have a look see.” He says, opening his door wider and stepping into the hallway.

Hank is much larger than you think he would be. His blue fur is slightly mussed and he lets out a yawn before closing his door.

I let him lead the way- not quite sure that I’ll like what I see when I get there.

We walk down the stairs and to the subbasement, our feet making a small clicking noise on the tile floors.  
When we get to the examination room- Logan and Daken are already there.

Gabby is sitting out in the hallway by the open doors.

“Gabby.” Hank nods to her. “Don’t you think you’d be better off in bed at this time of night?”

“I do.” She says. “But I want to make sure my brother doesn’t die.” Her voice is quiet. "Please don't let him die, Hank." She pleads. "he didn't know what he as doing- I know he didn't. And if he did- he didn't mean it. He didn't mean to poison himself."

"Gabby..." I say. "he did."

"No-"

"He did," I repeat. "But it's okay. He's going to be okay."

"He took poison on purpose??" She says fretfully. "Please don't him die- please, please, please don't let him die. I only have one big brother. And he's actually a really good one! Please- make him better." Her words are tripping over one another with the speed she's saying them.

“He’s not going to die- I assure you,” Hank says with a small smile. “He took a bottle of morphine. It’s not poison per se- he’s just overdosed on it. A few hours of vomiting should get it out of his system. All I have to do is make sure he doesn’t dehydrate. I promise, he's going to be okay. He's in more danger from your father and your sister than he is from the pills. Alright?”

She nods.

"No worries." he says, "your brother is in great hands. I promise." He nods to her as he passes.

I stay out in the hallway with her.

“You can go to bed, Gabby,” I tell her. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll wait out here for a bit. Just to be sure.”

"He's..."

"I knew something was wrong." She says. "I should have called Logan."

"This isn't on you," I say quietly. "This isn't on anyone. He's just sick."

"But-"

"This isn't on you," I repeat. "You should go to bed. We're going to have to talk to him. It's probably not going to be pretty."

"I'll go in a few minutes." She says. "I just... wanna sit here for a while- okay?"

“If that’s what you want,” I say hesitantly before walking past her and into the room.

the medical examination room is a long narrow room with six beds against the wall separated by large green curtains hanging from the ceiling. The very end of the room houses a variety of medical equipment- both from our world and from others. The x-men have tech that the general public is not aware of.

They'd release it to them- but we're under strict orders from the alien races we've been gifted them from that we are to use it for personal use only.

It says something that our doctors are able to operate these machines without prior knowledge of them. On the wall nearest Daken and Logan- there's row of white cabinets- on the top of the wall over a sink and on top of the floor below the sink.

Daken and Logan are situated at the bed nearest the door and they've left the curtain open.

Logan has Daken sitting on the bed- holding him down by the shoulder with one hand, and holding a pink pan of some sort with the other to catch the vomit.

"You don't want this." Logan is saying. "You don't want it- you know you don't want it."

"I do." Daken insists between bouts of vomiting.

"No, you don't," Logan says. "You worried me, you worried your sisters, my friends are getting out of bed because they're worried- you don't want this."

He nods his head violently.

"You don't." Logan says quietly. "you really don't."

“Well Daken,” Hank says, clearing his throat as he walks over to the bed. “I’m sure I don’t need to reiterate the reason why what you did was unintelligent.”

Daken groans.

“Can we trust you to stay in the bed by yourself or do you need something to hold you down?”

He answers by vomiting into the plastic pan again.

“Quite.” Hank walks over and checks prods at his stomach, making him recoil from his touch. “There there,” Hank says. “I’m checking for swelling of organs.”He removes his hand and goes to the cabinets to the side of the room. “We’ll have to put a lock on these if you cannot be trusted to control yourself,” he says. We’re all quiet as he removes several small bottles and the equipment needed to start an IV. “This is for nausea.” He says, picking up the syringe. “The rest is for an IV. Usually with this much vomiting- leading to much discomfort as I’m sure you’re aware of- we give the patient some morphine or something of the like. Seeing as you’ve already helped yourself to well over 10 doses for a man of your size- I’m sure you’ll appreciate us going without.”

“Morphine?” Logan asks.

"The residue on the bottle is powder from the pills. I recognize the smell anywhere- we use the capsule version quite often." Hank nods.

"So more painkillers," Logan says.

“A very large amount, at that,” Hank says, tapping the syringe with his long blue finger.

“You stowed it away,” Logan says, turning to my brother. “All day. That’s why you didn’t want to change clothes. That’s why you were so upset when you went to sleep. You’ve been planning this all day.”

Daken looks straight ahead.

“What alerted you to his attempt?” Hank asks.

“He was having a nightmare,” Logan says. "I didn't realize there was an attempt. He was making a lot of noise and scratched himself up pretty bad. If the girls hadn't gone into the room- I wouldn't have known."

"We're very lucky that they did go in when they did," Hank says.

"So... was the nightmare because of the pills?" Logan asks.

“Yes, while I’m sure he has many of those on his own right- the overdose probably prompted some pretty nasty hallucinations. I have no doubt that he was momentarily terrified.”

Poor Daken.

I find myself speechless.

If I hadn't found him... If he'd been allowed to sit on his own and possibly get more pills... If... if we hadn't been there.

I can't even bring myself to think of it.

I'm angry that he would do that to himself. And kind of selfishly- I'm angry that he would do that to us. To me. To Gabby.

When I look at his pale face- that anger subsides.

“So now we’re going to have to pat you down before we take you to bed,” Logan says to him. "Strip you down- make you change in front of us. Pat all your clothes down..."

“Or make him sleep in the nude,” Hank says, prepping his arm for the injection.

“Yea... no,” Logan says. “We’ll pat him down.”

“Just a suggestion,” Hank mumbles, checking his veins for the needle.

“Just leave me alone.” Daken groans. "I want to be alone."

“I believe you’ve forfeited the right to privacy for the time being,” Hank says.

He groans wordlessly before vomiting again.

Hank sets up the IV and we all sit in silence.

"Boy- when you said you were suicidal- I didn't know you meant right this minute," he says.

"You should always assume that when he says that he means 'right this minute'," Hank says.

"Got it." Logan looks him over. "God," he says.

Hank takes out a flashlight and checks his pupils.

"Oh you've really worked yourself over." he murmurs. "You should thank your sisters come tomorrow morning," he says. "It's their actions that have made it possible for you to live to SEE tomorrow morning."

Daken nods.

"Now- we're not going to restrain you," he says. "The reason being that we are in here with you and that you are far too ill to run. If you decide to run when you're feeling better- you will be caught." He pauses. "Do you understand?"

"I understand," Daken says quietly.

"Good," Hank says. "While you're resting- we'll wash the blood off of your face. You look, quite frankly, terrifying right now."

Daken nods.

"Let me get a cloth." He goes back to the cabinet and retrieves a small rag from a drawer- wetting it in the sink and bringing back over. "Steady." he soothes as he takes the cloth to my brother's face. A few minutes of scrubbing and a rusted rag later- the blood is gone.

"Speaking of that-" Logan breaks the silence as Hank takes the rag back to the sink, "Give me your hand."

“You want to hold my hand?” Daken scoffs. “I’m not that bad off.”

“I’m cutting your nails, smartass.” Our father holds his hand out. “Hand.”

“You’re not touching my nails,” Daken says, relaxing into the pillows behind his head.

“Hand,” Logan repeats.

“No way in hell.” Daken closes his eyes.

“Boy you can do this voluntarily or we can do it by force,” Logan says.

“Can’t you let me go for the time being?” Daken grouses. “I’m sick.”

“You’re only ‘sick’ because you made yourself sick,” Logan says. “Hand.”

“I’m not giving you my hand,” Daken growls.

Logan looks to me. “Come hold his hand still for me.” He says.

“Don’t you dare,” Daken says, glaring at me.

“Oh for heaven's sake.” Hank walks over and grabs Daken’s left hand- right below where he inserted the needle. “There we go.” He says.

Logan takes the silver nail clippers and takes them to my brother’s forefinger- which makes him curl the finger into a fist.

Logan glares at him, which makes Daken smile.

“Can you put him under?” He asks.

“Hmm.. perhaps,” Hank says. “Really- his system will right itself in a matter of hours, what with his healing factor being taken into account.” He says. “We could at least tranquilize him.”

He let’s go of my brother’s hand and walks back to the cabinets, opening the doors and digging through.

“I knew you were upset,” Logan says quietly. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Yes, you should have,” Daken says. “In fact, you should leave now. And stay gone. Forever.”

“Because I want to cut your nails?” Logan laughs.

“I pay to have them cut,” Daken says- semi-snottily if we’re being honest. “I don’t need you butchering them.”

“Yea- well then you shouldn't have tried to claw your eyes out.”

“Oh fuck you.” he hisses.

Hank comes back with another syringe. “You’re being difficult for no just reason.” He says. “People who Overdose as much as you do are hospitalized. Do you want to be hospitalized?”

Daken hesitates before shaking his head. “No.”

“Good then-“

“I want to be dead,” he says.

Hank stares at him for a long moment. “How long have you been actively suicidal?” He asks.

Daken raises an eyebrow.

“Wrong question,” Hank says. “Let me correct myself- when did the thoughts start today?”

Daken shrugs.

“Was there a trigger?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?” Hank asks patiently.

“Perhaps.” He closes his eyes.

“This on us, I suppose,” Hank says. “We should have been monitoring you more closely.”

“Fuck that.” He growls.

“Perhaps having your own room is too much for you right now,” Hank says. “Perhaps being left on your own is too much for you right now.”

Logan stares at him then back to Daken. “You think someone should sleep with him?” He asks.

“Maybe for the time being. Were he at an institution that would be doing nightly checks on him. We haven’t been doing that. We’ve been trusting that the sleeping pill would knock him out. It obviously does not.”

“I mean- it does,” Logan says. “He just wakes up.”

That makes me think.

Was he taking the morphine when he was texting me?

What exactly is the timeline in play here?

“Well... let’s make sure he’s supervised when he does.” Hank injects the IV with the syringe.

We wait in silence as the drug sets in.

Soon Daken exhales and looks up at the ceiling. “Leave me alone.” He says. “All of you. Just leave me alone.”

“Shush,” Logan says.

“Fuck you.” He repeats with a slur. “Bring me Laura.”

“I’m here,” I say, walking up to the bed.

“Kick them out.” He orders. "I need to talk to you."

“No way in hell we're leaving.” Logan chuckles. He sits on the side of the hospital bed, taking Daken’s hand and holding it by the wrist, slowly cutting the long nails there. “See? Not so bad, is it?” He says.

“Stop taking things off of my body.” Daken groans.

“The teeth had to come out,” Logan says. “The nails have to be cut. You can’t go around scratching yourself. It was so bad I thought you’d been able to use your claws.”

“They’re a defense mechanism,” Daken says. “Since you’ve stripped me of all of mine.”

Logan keeps cutting his nails. “I’ve seen you fight. You don’t need claws.”

“But I want them,” Daken says. “They’re mine. You can’t take them from me.”

“Yea- I can,” Logan says. “And I did.” he pauses. “Why are their notches in that ID?”

“None of your business,” Daken says.

“Looks like.... scissors?” Logan says.

“None of your business,” Daken repeats. “Leave. I want to talk to Laura.”

“One more hand.” He says. “The faster we get this over with the sooner I’ll leave.”

Daken holds his hand out to Logan.

“That’s what I thought.” Logan chuckles.

“I want to talk to Laura.” He insists.

Logan doesn’t respond.

When the final nail is clipped- he nods to Hank. “Give the boy the room.” He says. “God only knows what awful things he’s going to say.”

“Fuck you,” Daken growls.

“Find a new catchphrase.” Logan laughs- standing up. “You got any coffee down here, Hank?”

“I do have a pot in my lab,” Hank says. “It looks like we’re in for a long night. Might as well.”

They walk off, leaving me with my brother.

“You’ve got to take me with you.” He says after a moment of silence. “I can’t stay here. Please, Laura. Please. Take me with you.”

I’m silent for a moment. “Are you saying that if you were living with me- this wouldn't have happened?”

He’s very quiet.

“That’s what I thought,” I say.

He looks at the ceiling before sighing. “I’m sorry.” He says.

“I know, Daken,” I reply.

“No really.” He says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “Just... maybe stop for a while?”

He nods. “Yea.”

“Maybe consider putting some of this effort into something more constructive?”

He stares at me. “Like...?”

I think about it. “Your sketchbook was good,” I tell him. "And I saw that you had another one by your bed."

“Please.” He scoffs. "Don't try to flatter me. I don't want it."

“No really,” I say. “I saw it. It’s very good.”

“So what- you think I should drop everything and become an artist?” He chuckles.

“I think it would be a very good and very constructive use of your time and effort.” I look him over. “And maybe you could make something of it.”

he’s quiet again.

“In the very least- can you promise not to hurt yourself for at least the rest of the week?” I ask.

“What day is it?” He asks.

“Monday night. Or more so- Tuesday morning.”

“Hmmm.” He grins. “I make no promises.”

“That’s not funny,” I say even though I myself am fighting off a smile.

“It’s a little funny.” He laughs.

I shake my head. “You need sleep. Whatever they gave you to stop the vomiting worked. You should go to sleep.”

“You should go to sleep.” He counters.

“I was on my way to bed when this started,” I say pointedly.

He goes silent.

“Go to sleep,” I tell him. “Get some good rest.”

He nods. “Alright.”

“Good,” I say. “I’ll bring Logan back in here.”

He groans. “Do you have to?”

“Yes,” I say. “If you didn't want his involvement you shouldn’t have tried to kill yourself.”

“Noted.” He grouses.

I can’t help but smile again. “I love you,” I say. “Get some rest. Try not to kill our father.”

“I make no promises.” He smiles. It’s a tired smile- but it’s a smile nonetheless.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell him, going to the door.

“Wait.” He calls after me.

I turn around to look at him.

“If they’re going to hire someone to stay with me- please let it be you.” He says.

I bite my lip. “I can’t do that Daken. Not every day. I have my own house to care for. And our little sister. I can’t spend every night with you.”

The look on his face is one of hurt.

“But I’ll help them pick the person- Alright?” I offer.

He nods. “That’s better than nothing.”

“It is.” I agree. “Now go to sleep. All of this worry can wait until morning.”

“Goodnight.” He says.

“Good night,” I reply, walking into the hall.

Logan and Hank are standing a little ways away from the door drinking coffee.

I hear a distinct, “He says it’s fine.” From Hank.

“I don’t trust it,” Logan says, drinking another sip of coffee.

“You’ve known him for years,” Hank says in disbelief.

“I know I have. And he’s a great guy. It’s just... he’s shown... interest.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Hank says patiently. “What I’m more surprised about is the fact that you didn’t know until now.”

“How could I know? He keeps his secrets on lockdown.”

Hank sighs. “It’s obvious.” He says. “Your son is, in his own special way, smitten.”

“You call that smitten?” Logan snorts.

“That’s smitten for the level of emotion Daken is capable of showing.”

“And you think I should let them be alone together. Just like that.” Logan says dryly.

“I think you need a solution that will work in a pinch. He is your solution.”

Logan seems to just now have taken note of me. “Hey, darlin’.” He says.

I nod, walking over to him. “What are you talking about?”

He’s quiet a second before saying, “Bobby wants to be your brother’s aide.”

“Aide?”

“It’s better than ‘nanny’,” Hank says quietly.

“It’s a good idea,” I say honestly. “They like each other.”

“That’s the problem,” Logan says. “They like each other.”

“I trust Bobby,” I say. “Unreservedly.”

Logan inhales. “It’s not a good idea.” He says finally.

“It’s a better idea than you doing it,” I say.

He rolls his eyes. “Taking his side again.” He mumbles.

“I’m playing devil’s advocate.” I correct. “Bobby is a good a choice. He won’t be upset if Bobby does it.”

Logan looks at me for a long moment. “And you think it’s a good idea.” He says. “Honestly- you think it’s a good idea.”

“I do,” I say. “Bobby cares for him. And Daken cares enough not to hurt Bobby. It’s an obvious choice.”

Logan sighs. “I’ll talk to Bobby. See when he can start.”

“I’d imagine soon,” Hank says. “He’s not teaching this semester.”

“Since when?” Logan scoffs.

“Since he lost his students.”

“Lost them? What do you mean ‘lost them’?”

“No one signed up for his course.” Hank smiles. “I believe accounting is not something the children value as ‘superhero requirements’.”

Logan laughs. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good,” I say. “Now, I’m going to bed.”

Logan nods. “Goodnight darlin’.”

“Goodnight to both of you,” I say.

“Goodnight Laura. Have pleasant dreams.” Hank says. “I’m going to turn in as well.” He tells my father.

“I’ll go sit with the kid.” He says.

Everyone departs about their individual ways.

I don’t know what to expect for tomorrow morning- to be honest. But I’m just glad that for the time being everyone is alive.

And with a situation like the one we’re in- that’s really all you could hope for on a night like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm still in that PHP program. So again, updates are gonna lag a little.   
> If anything is not tagged right- please let me know!   
> I'm still not on Tumblr- but I promise if you alert me, I will tag it properly and I will sincerely apologize. It's late as I'm posting this so I might not be thinking everything through that needs tagged. 
> 
> Also, I watched Benny and June recently and it's a really great movie. it's inspired all kinds of cute scenes I've written up and can't wait to share with Y'all! 
> 
> Also, I have run this through Grammarly like five times. I know what I'm trying to say, but I type so fast that the spelling is just mangled. It takes a hell of a word editor to catch it. When I'm typing I kind of have almost a dyslexia kind of thing- I do the same thing with numbers. My typing is fast but very, very, VERY inaccurate. Editing without an app takes easily two days. So hopefully it caught everything!
> 
> Again, thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you would so kindly leave a comment or a kudos- they really make my day!


	16. Waking, hallucinating, Bobby, and Oranges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! 
> 
> Long time no post! 
> 
> SO we're gonna break straight into this.   
> This chapter is a little heavy in the beginning and involves major hallucinations. Like MAJOR ones. For several paragraphs. Those hallucinations - as they are often in real life with real disorders- are very negative and serve no purpose but to hurt the person who is experiencing them. So they are VERY VERY negative. There is some talk of suicidal ideation- so again, very negative. So please be careful! That being said, the thing that comes after that is just some good ol' coupley time with some Bobby/Daken tenderness. Bobby being an awesome guy who did some amazing research to help his (boy)friend. 
> 
> ALSO- I paraphrased a lot of what happened in the comics all out of order and very, very briefly because I sometimes hate cannon when I'm writing because it was constraining to my ideas! SO that's been tweaked. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and commenting, and leaving kudos! 
> 
> IF you see something that is not tagged correctly or you think should be up in the comments- please let me know. Because of the whole Tumblr thing- I am still not cleared for Tumblr usage so the only way you can reach me is to let me know right here. As always, I will profusely apologize and give a proper warning. 
> 
> Thanks again!

“If he can hold his head upright then he can eat fucking breakfast.” 

What a lovely sentence to mutter upon greeting your child who’s just recovered from a suicide attempt. Another A+ parenting moment from Logan. 

“I know he can hold his head up-”    
  
“And he can eat.” Logan cuts him off. “I didn’t hire you to play his little games.” 

My father’s voice is so unpleasant in the morning.

But like that he verbally said he ‘hired’ Bobby. It’s like I got to pick who would be watching me after all.    
  
Now if only I knew what this ‘job’ entailed…. 

Last night’s a fucking blur. I gave it a good shot, though-  I remember that much. 

I remember doing as he told me- the conversation beforehand, pocketing the pills in the dentist office and holding onto them, and then I remember waking up in the deepest pit of despair that I had ever been subjected to. I texted Laura before I took them. I hadn’t made my mind up and on the off chance that I didn’t go through with it- I wanted to see her today.

I am slightly glad that it didn’t work. 

I guess I didn’t want it as badly as I thought I did. 

The constant supervision through the night was a little over the top. 

The fact that he didn’t say anything-anything at all- worried me.    
  
Every time I tried to say something, my father would just say “Go to sleep.” Not answering a single damn thing. 

I made up my mind to try and comply more. At least- half try. My situation is not getting any better until something changes. And…. I don’t think that something- more so ‘someone’- will be them. I think it’s up to me. It’s a new position I’ve been placed in. I usually don’t have much say over my predicaments. Romulus made sure of it.

Now? Now they’re saying it’s up to me. I’ve got to ‘try’. I shudder to think of what that might entail. But… it’s got Bobby hanging out with me. If I can do it for anyone- I can do it for Bobby. I saw how badly that video yesterday upset him. He was horrified. The fact that he was here this morning really spoke to me. I have to try to keep him happy. 

Eating, however, is the last thing on my mind. Not after how upset my stomach was last night. 

Next time I’d be better just trying to suffocate. Or bleed out. With my healing factor though- that’s nearly impossible. 

But then that’s flipping back into the mindset that there will  _ be _ a next time. I shouldn’t be thinking like that. 

It’s hard not to, though. My brain’s been set on self-destruction for so long now. Figuring out how to live with this... to stay  _ alive _ never occurred to me. And as odd as it sounds- I’m not sure I know  _ how _ to stay alive. Not with this.

I honestly forget that for however brief of a time period- I was living with this. I was doing horribly- but I was alive. Romulus didn’t let anyone lay a hand on me without his permission…. even if that person was me. I remember a particularly bad patch where he beat me half to death for the tiniest act of self-destruction. Nothing like what I’ve done here lately. 

He would truly be beside himself.    


Fuck him. 

I don’t know why I’m thinking of him so often. Not now. The past is in the past. It’s buried there. It needs to  _ stay  _ buried there. I can’t be fueling this whatever the fuck it is in my head with all of this childhood trauma bullshit. Yea- it sucked. Yea- it  _ really  _ sucked. It hurt. It was violent. It was dark. It was…. Everything someone should not have to go through as a child.    
  
But… it’s over. I’m not in that position anymore and I need to find a way to move forward. 

Telling that to myself is one thing- actually  _ meaning _ it is a completely different story. 

I need to move forward. I just… can’t. No matter how hard I try. No matter how hard I fight- round and round and round we go. The fucking circle. The never-ending loop of this demented life of mine. Round and round and round. The players never really change- not really. Every time one figure falls in my life- another is there to take his place.  _ His _ place. I find it odd that I’m even attracted to men at this rate- seeing as literally  _ all _ of my abuse has come from the hands of other men. Seeing as literally all I wanted in the  _ world  _ growing up was for Romulus to see me as a son. To see me as something he loved.

He didn’t give me love. He gave me lust. 

Every time I found a new male figure- someone who I believed could help, Romulus had them killed or turned them against me. Driving home the message that in the end, all I had was him. He was my  _ everything _ . And I should just accept that. I should be  _ happy _ to serve him. Unreservedly. Any and every hardship he bestowed upon me- I made him. It was always my fault.

All I wanted during my child, fuck during my adulthood, was somebody to stand up and say that they cared. That what happened was wrong. That it… that it wasn’t my fault. 

I need to hear- with my own ears- that it wasn’t  _ my _ fault. 

I need someone to care. Really, really, really  _ care. _

But I can’t have that. It’s not sustainable.

Logan pretends like he cares- but he doesn’t. I  _ know _ he doesn’t. 

It’s obligation.    
  
He’s down here this morning playing the ‘good father’ part. Making sure I don’t starve. 

I don’t  understand how I’m so torn by his presence. I hate him. I hate what he’s done to me. I hate what he  _ continues _ to do to me. But.. when he was talking to me last night, when he was caring and kind- I wanted that. To let my guard down. 

I let it down too far and that ever compressing darkness swept over me. Like taking a dive into a dark lake that has no bottom. Cold, icy, bottomless despair sweeps over you and there is  _ no _ escape. With my walls  _ that _ far down I had no defenses. I had no way to shut the darkness out.

Taking those pills was a necessity at that point. I had to try. Just like going out the window- I had to try to get away. I had to  _ try _ to end it.  

_ ‘And you failed.’  _ I’m not surprised to hear him. My ever-present being of mass destruction. My own personal boogieman. Suited to follow me wherever I may go.

“I gave it a shot,” I whisper.

_ “And you failed.”  _ He repeats.

I don’t glance up from my staring at the flimsy white med blankets. Thick enough to be warm- short enough to not hang yourself. He planned for everything.  

“I’m not playing his games, Logan. I’m just telling you that he’s not hungry.” Bobby’s voice says quietly. “He’s been puking all night.”

_ “I wonder how you ever performed your given tasks in your old life.”  _ The man muses.  _ “Given that all you seem to be able to accomplish is failure.”  _

“I got through okay.”

“That’s his own fault. Doc said he needs to be eating. If he didn’t want to puke- he wouldn’t have taken all of those pills. I’m not going to feel sorry for him when he did it to himself.”  

Logan’s voice is distant now- though logically I know he hasn’t moved.  It’s me going distant. Drifting off into subspace.

_ “One wonders how you can fuck up something as simple as an overdose. You’ve done it on your little ‘binges’ several times over.” _

“I always come back from those.” I dismiss.

_ “But do you want to?” _ He presses.

“Whether I want to or not is irrelevant,” I say numbly.

_ “You’re correct- your feelings on the matter are unimportant. Something like life and death are not for an animal such as yourself to decide. Are they- mongrel?” _

“He doesn’t want you to feel sorry for him.” Bobby snaps, outside of the room. “And we all know you won’t. He just wants a little bit of understanding-” 

“Tell you what I ‘understand’,” Logan says. “I understand that he only ate ice cream yesterday and then he puked it up. That means he needs to eat. That means he’s going to eat- even if I have to shove it down his throat.” 

The imaginary man looks in their direction.

_ “Made father angry again- I take it.”  _ He smirks- an odd emotion of his otherwise featureless face.  _ “Why do you think he puts up with, boy?”  _ He asks.

“He…”

_ “All you do is hurt him in any way you possibly can. Why on earth would he still care?” _

“He…” Fuck. Why does he care? Why would he let me put him through all of this?

_ “He doesn’t.”  _ The man whispers.  _ “None of them do. Let them in- let ANY of them in- and you will get hurt. Like you always do. Like you always have. Show your weakness and you will pay for it… but I don’t have to tell you that… do I?” _

“No,” I say numbly. 

_ “The man whom you seek out for company is not on your side.” _ His voice is like silk coated oil- sliding through my mind.  _ “He will hurt you. Leave you. USE you.” _

“I know,” I say quietly.

_ “You can’t trust any of them.”  _ He hisses.

“I can’t.” I agree.

_ “Because they don’t ‘love’ you. They don’t care. They don’t mean you well. They are against you.” _

They… are?

“No-” 

“And he will eat- I promise,” Bobby says outside the door- he sounds a thousand miles away. “Just not right now. Besides- he doesn’t like eggs.”

“What?” 

“Eggs,” Bobby says. “Daken doesn’t like eggs.” 

“Since when?”

“Since…. Forever?” Bobby says. “As long as I’ve known him? He usually eats toast and bacon.” 

He knows something about me. It’s something…. So simple. But… he remembers something about me. Maybe-

_ “You are a fool to think a random tidbit of knowledge cancels out his disdain for you.”  _ He hisses, getting close to the bed.  _ “You will get hurt. You will be wounded. You will end up wishing you were dead- just like all those years ago. A little lonely orphan standing in the rain with no one to come and rescue him. And one person out of the billions on earth had the grace to take you in. ONE. And what do you do? You turn against him. You discard all of his lessons for momentary comforts from others who do not love you. Who do not care. You have only him. Only me. We care. You can rely on me to tell you the truth. I will never lie to you.” _

This is a lot to take in. Too much information. My brain feels like it’s being pulled in half. One side of it falling to logic- the other to madness. Like being pulled in two different directions.

“I thought he ate eggs.” Logan’s voice is so far away. So.. so far.

_ “He knows nothing about you.”  _ The man says.  

“Nope.”

“And you know this…?” 

“Because I fucking talk to him.” Bobby snaps. “Now get out of here. I’m working.”

_ “He means you harm.”  _  He continues.  

“Watch it, Drake,” Logan growls.

Bobby… Bobby wouldn’t hurt me. He’s… he’s wrong. That’s not true. Even when we were against each other- when he had the chance to kill me… he didn’t. He didn’t want to. It goes against everything he believes in. He doesn’t hurt people. 

_ “True. But you’re not a person- are you?”  _ The man asks slyly.

No. I’m not.

I mean… maybe I’m not. 

_ “Your confusion gives them power.”  _ He says lowly.  _ “You grant them rights to harm you. YOU invite them in. YOU let them do as they wish. In the end, YOU are to blame. YOU are the reason YOU suffer.”  _ His voice is so loud. It’s a miracle they don’t hear him.   


“Be quiet,” I whisper.  

“Yea… that overstepped some lines.” Bobby says, voice getting closer. “I felt it. But you hired me to do a job. I can’t watch him if you’re down here picking a fight.”

_ “Who are you to tell me what to do?”  _  He hisses.  _ “I give the orders and YOU take them. Are you so foolish to think you are capable of doing anything other than taking orders? You haven’t an original thought in your head. Everything you know- everything you think you know- was put there by someone far more intelligent than yourself. More intelligent than you could ever be. Now tell me, boy, why it is you think you can override all of this on your own? You can’t. You’ll never be free. I’m giving you an out. An option to put everyone out of their misery. You couldn’t keep your sisters safe, you can’t please your father, and you can’t make that fool out there love you. You are unlovable. And everyone knows it.” _

“Shut up,” I whisper.

“Picking a fight my ass.” Logan scoffs outside. “He needs to eat.”

_ “Oh, how stupid you’ll look when this all collapses around your idiotic little ears.”  _ He smiles cruelly.

“Go away,” I tell him, trying not to alert them. 

_ “You don’t have the power or the will to send me away.”  _  He says.  _ “You need me. I keep you safe.” _

“I don’t need you to keep me safe,” I growl. “No one is hurting me.”

_ “You don’t believe that.”  _ He chuckles.

“Maybe I don’t,” I admit. “But I believe it enough to know you’re trying to hurt me.”

_ “ME? Hurt YOU? I have only your best interest at heart. You are fighting a losing battle. I only offer you the chance to end it before it goes any further. Think of what a burden you are. Think of how everyone around you slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, starts to hate you. You turn people to rot. Like an infection. You use up good people and then leave them- you always have and you always will.” _

“That’s not true!” I snap.

The men outside the room go quiet. 

“Is he talking to us?” Bobby asks quietly.   
“No,” Logan says. “He’s not.” he’s quiet for a second. “At least he better not be.” 

_ “Sounds like a threat. Don’t you think?” _

I stay quiet.

“I gotta feed him. He can’t keep taking those meds on an empty stomach. And it sounds like he’s in there talking to himself. He needs to eat now so we can dose him and he can get some peace. Got me?” 

“Then get him something he’ll actually eat,” Bobby says. “Toast,  fruit, bacon- anything but eggs.”

_ “Why do you think dear Robert would fight for you comfort oh so hard?” _ He asks.  _ “When he was so frightened of you last night.” _

“He was only ‘frightened’ because Logan showed him a recording of me talking to  _ you _ ,”I say pointedly. “I am not the problem.”

_ “Hmm… I didn’t tell you to bang your stupid little head into the wall- if I remember correctly.” _

“You may as well have,” I whisper, trying to keep it down.

“He had eggs in the hospital,” Logan says to Bobby.   


“Because they wouldn’t give him anything else,” Bobby says. “Trust me. He doesn’t like them.” 

He’s right. I despise eggs. 

_ “Oh bully for him.”  _ The man scoffs.  _ “He remembers one little fact about you. A real hero.” _

“Bobby is a hero.” I hiss. “He wouldn’t hurt me.” 

_ “I suppose we’ll just have to see who’s right, then.”  _ He says.  _ “But believe when I say,  I will be here to point at your failure when he does hurt you. And you will be left to the residue of your own weakness.” _

“I’ll get him something else,” Logan says. “Fruit?”

“Grapes, cantaloupe, apples, oranges- he doesn’t eat sugar so he likes naturally sweet things.” 

“Makes sense,” Logan says. “I’ll see what we’ve got.” 

“It wouldn’t hurt to let me take him shopping- either,” Bobby says.    
  
“Shopping? Like in an actual store?” 

“Well… yea.” Bobby says.    
  
Logan chuckles. “You didn’t see what he did when we took him out yesterday.” 

“Maybe this time will be different,” Bobby argues. “You can’t keep him cooped up in the house all the time.”

_ “So he wants you to be outside pet, hmm mongrel?” _

“Shut up,” I whisper.

He makes a noise of annoyance but otherwise stays quiet. 

Logan’s quiet for a minute. “Take him out tonight.” He says. “Let him pick some stuff out.”

“While we’re out, we should get him some clothes,” Bobby says. “Shoes? Jeans? Shit like that.”

“Not a bad idea,” Logan replies. “But he’s got to be back by nine.”

“We can swing that.” Bobby sounds cheerful. “Getting him out the house will make him feel better.”

_ “Make you feel better? How naive. He doesn’t want you to ‘feel’ better. Your father hired him to watch you. He wants you to be as sick as possible so he still has a job.” _

There may be some truth in that… but I highly doubt it. Bobby’s not that kind of person. I’m happy to have him spending so much time with me. Even if Logan compensates him for his efforts.

“We’ll have to see how he does,” Logan says.

“What’s on his agenda for today?”

“Got some appointments to attend,” Logan says. “Downtown.”

“Doctors?”

Logan makes a noise of affirmation.    
  
“Does he know?” 

“Not yet.” 

_ “He wasn’t even going to tell you.”  _ The man says.  _ “Just take you out, spin you around, and leave you. How much easier would that be on everyone? If you just didn’t find your way home?”  _

Bobby makes a noise of annoyance. “You can’t keep springing these things on him,” he says. 

“It’s best to catch him off guard,” Logan says. “It gives him less of a chance to fight.” 

_ “See the efforts he has to take to make you comply? Your stupid little brain isn’t capable of knowing when you’re burdening someone else.” _

“I know that I’m a burden.” I hiss. “You don’t have to beat me over the head with it.”

_ “On the contrary. IF you knew you were a burden, you would try harder to not be here. You’re such a selfish thing.” _

“Still pretty shitty,” Bobby says. 

“Well, no one asked you.” Logan counters. They’re both quiet for a moment. 

“He feels pretty shitty already, okay?” Bobby says. “Don’t make this worse.”

“Worse? How could I make it worse?” Logan scoffs.

“Have you been listening?” he asks quietly. “I’d say he feels pretty bad right now. Let me worry about getting him to eat. He just needs someone to sit with him right now.”

“And you’re not going to let me in to see him,” Logan states dryly. “Me. His primary caregiver.”

“He doesn’t need a primary caregiver right now,” Bobby says. “He’s good with secondary. He’s embarrassed about last night. Leave him be for right now. When he’s ready, we’ll come up- okay?”

“Fine,” Logan says. “But if he’s not up by eleven- I’m coming back down here.”

“Fine,” Bobby says. “That’s cool. Just give me a little more time with him.”

“Eleven- Drake,” Logan says. “He’s got shit to do today.”

“I know,” Bobby says. “And he’ll do it. But he just downed a bottle of pills last night. Give him a break.”

“Break. Right. That’s just what he needs.” Logan scoffs. 

“It is,” Bobby says firmly. 

“Eleven,” Logan repeats. “See you then.”

“Gotcha.”

The door to the med wing slides open again as Bobby walks back over to me, for a moment standing right beside the invisible threat. 

_ “Such a kind babysitter- don’t you think?”  _  The man runs his hand over Bobby’s shoulder.  _ “So nice. So handsome. So… strong.” _

I make a point not to look at either of them. 

“You okay?” Bobby asks sweetly.

I nod. 

“You sure?”

I nod again. 

_ “Don’t be so sullen.”  _ The man says.  _ “Smile for him and you may make a ‘friend’. You’re good at that… aren’t you? You could say it’s one of your only redeeming qualities.” _

“Are you sure that you’re sure?” Bobby says jokingly.

“I’m sure.” It comes out stiff.

Bobby reaches over and takes my chin in his hands, raising my head to look at him. “You won’t look at me in the eyes,” he says quietly. 

“I’m tired.” I lie.

He looks me over for a second. “Is it the cat again?”

“Cats don’t talk.” I hiss.

Bobby lets go and holds his hands up. “My bad, my bad. I know cats don’t talk. I know you’re sick of people asking you that.”

“Do you know the level of crazy it would take to see an invisible talking cat?” I try to joke. 

My line falls flat. 

“Yea,” he says. “I guess you’re right.” He’s motionless for a second. “So… is that all you see? The cat and the man?”

I nod.    
  
“But… the cat doesn’t talk.” 

“Nope.”    
  
“So you’ve been in here talking to the man?” 

_ “My, he really is a genius, isn’t he?”  _  The man says cruelly. 

"Yea,” I admit.    
  
Bobby takes my hand. “Is he in here now?” He asks. 

“Why? So you can freak out and leave again?” I ask darkly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says gently. “Just want to know if I’m standing next to or in someone.” He smiles. 

I glance to his right.

“Beside someone- got it,” Bobby says, moving over to the small metal chair beside the bed. 

“You’re not freaked out?” I ask tentatively.

“Nope,” he says. “I’m more worried about you freaking out. You look pretty… distraught.” 

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” I say quickly.

“I know you wouldn’t.” He soothes. “I know. I’m not scared of you hurting me.”  

“You were last night.” 

“No,” he says quickly. “No- I wasn’t scared you would hurt me. I was just… a little overwhelmed.”

“But you’re back.”

“I’m back.” He confirms. “And I’d like to stick around… if that’s okay? If it’s not- we can find you someone else.” 

_ “See how he longs to be away from you?”  _  The man moves over more towards Bobby.  _ “This weakling can’t keep you safe- you know that, don’t you?”  _

I nod. 

Bobby catches my eyes again. “You want me to be quiet until he leaves or do you want me to talk over him?” He asks. 

I swallow a little loudly. “It’s hard… to keep up with two conversations at once.” I admit. 

“I believe it.” Bobby chuckles. “That’s one of my least favorite parts about teaching. And you have to do… all the time?”

“Not all the time. Sometimes it’s quiet.” 

“Like when you’re with the cat,” Bobby says. 

I nod. 

“Do you ever hear talking when he’s not around?” 

“No.”

“So he just shows up and… does what? Tells you to hurt yourself?”

“More or less,” I say with a nod. 

“Well, I don’t want you hurt,” Bobby says. “So… would you mind trying to focus on me? Just for now. Maybe it will make him leave?” 

I nod again. “Sounds reasonable.”    
  
“Good.” Bobby smiles. “I can… I don’t know… read you a lesson plan that I won’t use until next semester.”

That’s right. He has no students right now.  

“If you have no students- how are you getting paid?” I ask. 

“Eh. Being an x-man has its perks.” He grins. “But mostly I just bum money off my friends.” 

“Ha.”

He nods. “Kitty is like a loan shark. I think I owe her about…. 500 bucks. Granted we’ve known her since I was sixteen…” 

That makes me smile. “I’d think pissing off a woman who can phase through your body- taking whatever organs she so pleases- would not be in your best interest.” 

“You and me both.” He laughs.

“As long as we’re on the same page.” I laugh.    
  
“Oh, we are.” He leans forward and pulls his phone off the edge of my bed- where it was plugged into the wall charging. “Nine thirty,” he tells me.  “You are going to eat today- right?” He asks, smiling. “Because it looks bad on my first day of your helper if you don’t eat anything. And I just had a bit of a fight with your dad about it.”

_ “Yes eat. What an easy way for them to poison and dispose of you. They’ll fatten you up and send you to slaughter. Like the worthless swine that you are.” _

I have to shake my head to clear it.  

“I’ll eat,” I say. “I promise.”

“He said something about that- didn’t he?” Bobby asks gently.

I’m a little surprised that he would know something like that.    
  
Oh god. Is he not in my head? Is he real? Is he-   
  
“I saw your face.” He says quickly. “And I see it now- you are freaking out about something.” 

I close my eyes. “Yes, he said something. Then when you asked about it I started to worry that he was real and-”    
  
“He’s not.” Bobby takes my hand and squeezes it. “Okay? He’s not real. I just saw you looking over where I was standing… and you said he’d been standing beside me… so... Yea. Put two and two together. Math teachers are good at that.” 

I sigh in relief. At least if he’s only haunting me- no one else gets hurt.

“So… are you hungry?” He asks. 

“A little.” 

_ “Pig.” _

“Maybe not.” I correct myself.

“Let’s go with ‘a little’.” he smiles. “What do you want? Fruit? Bacon? I can make you a smoothie…”

_ “Poison.”  _ He says.

“I-”

“We could even get a pop tart if you wanna break your ‘no sugar’ rule.” 

_ “By all means continue.”  _ He smiles.  _ “I’m sure you’d be happy to break all of your own self-discipline  for something as common as a ‘poptart’.” _

“Waffles?” Bobby keeps going.

“No.. no thank you.” I try to keep my eyes down. 

“Are you sure?”

I nod. 

He leans back in his chair. “Your dad’s worried,” he says.

_ “Another symptom of your being a burden.”  _

“He’s always worried,” I say, distractedly.

Bobby is quiet for a minute. “I’m worried too.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” I say honestly.  “I’m… sorry?”

Is that what he’s looking for? An apology?    
  
I’m extremely bad at apologizing. 

Bobby leans forward. “Maybe you can start by promising to stop trying to off yourself? You scared a lot of us last night.”

“Will that make you feel better?”

“Honestly? Yea. It will.”

I pause for a moment. “Then I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” he smiles.

_ “Weakling. Don’t think that just because he doesn’t want you to die on his watch doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you to die at all.” _

“Go away.” I hiss, not really meaning to do it out loud.

“You know what helps me get distracted?” Bobby asks.

I glance up at him.    
  
“Music.” 

“...Music?” 

“Uh-hmm.” He unlocks his phone and starts to scroll through something. “What are you in the mood for?”

I haven’t listened to music in a long time. 

A really long time. 

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

“Do you have a favorite band?”    
  
I shake my head.    
  
“Favorite artist?” 

I shake my head again. 

“Favorite song?” 

“Afraid not.” 

“Hmm.” Bobby hums. “I think we should start…. In the 60’s then.” He says. “Everyone loves The Beatles.”

“Not a big fan, actually,” I say honestly. “I was there when they were big.”

Bobby pauses. “You were… there… for the Beatles.”

“I was in New York in the early 60’s,” I confirm. “I also went to Woodstock. Got in a lot of trouble for that.” 

“Woodstock? Like.. hippies and stuff?”    
  
I nod.    
  
“Please tell me you had the mohawk.” He grins.    
  
“My hairs always been like this.” 

“Always?” 

I nod. “Well… in some variation.”

He nods. “So… you were there for the Beatles, Woodstock…. Punk Rock?” He asks.

I nod again. “Yes. I liked the punk era a lot.” 

“Ska?”

“I can’t stand Ska,” I say. 

"Hair bands?”

I nod again. 

“Grunge?” 

“Bobby- you were alive for grunge,” I say.

“Yea- but I was young.” He says. “You were an adult.” 

“I was in my… early 50’s I believe.”    
  
Bobby looks me over. “That is so freaky,” he says. “In a good way- don’t get me wrong… but you look so… young.” 

“My lifespan is very, very, very long.” I agree.

We’re quiet for a second. “Do you know how old Logan is?” 

I shrug. “I’d guess pushing two-hundred. My grandmother died sometime in the 1800’s  You’d have to ask him though, I wasn’t there, obviously.”

“When were you born?” 

“1946. Right after the WWII.”

“Wow. Okay. So you were alive during…. How many wars?”

“I was in Vietnam at the same time as many American troops- but I was not serving as a soldier. Korea.  Various other countries involved in wars that America was not and would not be involved in.”

“But you were never a soldier.” He pries.    
  
“I went through boot camp when I was fourteen.” I offer. 

“Wow.” He says with wide eyes. “Really. Wow.”

“Romulus was very old,” I say, not really meaning to bring him up.

“Yea? I never saw him.”

“None of the X-men saw him,” I smirk. “He hated all of you equally.”

“Ouch.” Bobby puts his hand on his chest. “Really- ouch.”

“I said  _ he _ hated you. Not me.” 

“So…. you don’t hate us?” He asks with a grin.

“No more than I hate anyone else.”

He nods. “Is there someone you can say you actually like?”

“Laura. Gabby.” I pause. “You on most occasions.” 

“I’ll take that.” He smiles. “I will definitely take that.”

“What did Logan say about me having shit to do today?”   

“Meet with a doctor,” he says. “Therapist. One of those.”

I exhale slowly. “And if I don’t want to?” 

“I don’t think it’s much of a choice,” Bobby says. “Don’t worry- I’ll get you there in time.”

“Yes,” I say dryly. “That’s exactly what I was worried about.”

“How about we start in.. early 2000’s.?” He asks, looking through his phone. “Pop Rock.”

“Pop rock?” I question. 

“Yea know… like some of the stuff on the more ‘emo’ side of things?” 

“I find it hard to believe you would listen to ‘emo’ music.” I scoff.

“Why? Because I’ve always been my usual bright ball of sunshine self?” he teases. “I’ve got a dark side.” 

“..... please tell me it involves eyeliner.”

Bobby laughs, loudly. “I was so in the closet that I wouldn’t touch anything  _ remotely  _ ‘girly’.”

“I think you’d look good with some eye-makeup,” I say, smiling.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should let me do it for you sometime. There’s nothing wrong with men wearing makeup.”

He laughs. “Your dad freaked out when he saw you with painted nails the first time.” He recalls.

I smile. “Logan’s trying to be as ‘understanding’ as he can. He literally comes from a different era. Toxic masculinity has had its hooks in him for a long time.”

“You know you’re pretty masculine yourself.”

“Not enough so to be afraid of fashion and the color pink.” I tease.

“Yea… your dad could use a little help in the fashion department.”

“No more so than anyone else in my family.” I joke.

“Nah. You didn’t see your sister when she first came to us.” he laughs. “Emma Frost-  _ Emma Frost-  _  told her she had to cover up.”

“That is shocking,” I admit.

“She wore fishnets like… every day. And she was fourteen. Whenever we left the mansion- Logan threatened to stab like fifty million dudes who looked at her. Thank god Gabby has turned out much differently.”

“Gabby is her own person.” I agree. She’s got a sense of self that most clones don’t have. 

“How is Gabby?” he asks.

“Fine,” I say. “She wanted my teeth.”

“...Did she get them?”

“As far as I know.” I smile. “I don’t know what she plans to do with them.”

“Who knows with that kid?” He laughs. Bobby’s smile is infectious.

I feel.. Happy. First time in several, several hours. 

“Hey,” He says gently.    
  
“Hmm?”    
  
“You haven’t looked to the side in a few minutes.” He smiles. “And you’re not as upset.” 

I look beside him, seeing empty air.

I’m stunned. 

“I-”    


“Yea?” He smiles. 

“He’s.. gone.” 

“Little bit of distraction,” Bobby says. “I read online that it might help.”

“You.. did research?”

“Yep,” he says. “I went to Ororo and talked her ear off after I left you- she said she’d talk to Logan…. And then I got on my laptop. Your disorder really doesn’t have a name because they don’t know what the chemical is… and because it was induced my Romulus we don’t know who else has been subjected to it…. But no one’s come forward so I’m going to say it’s just you,” He inhales, “So I looked them all up.” 

“What ‘all’ did you look up?” 

“Mental illness.” He says. “Like… every disorder. Every symptom, every explanation, every doctor in New York state, different types of therapy-” he stops. “It was a very, very long night.”

I can’t help but smile. “I’m touched.” 

“Yea, well you should be.” He teases. “I haven’t done that much research since I had to write papers for the Professor.”

“And what was that like?” 

“The professor?” He smiles fondly. “It was great. He was a great guy.” 

“You say ‘was’,” I say. “Is he dead?” 

“Um, yea,” he says, somewhat sadly. “Yea, he is. Kinda sucks- ya know? Since my powers came around- My dad’s been a little… distant.” he laughs a little stiffly. “Even more so since I told him I was gay? The professor was like a father figure to me. To a lot of us.” 

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” 

“No, not at all. It’s.. well… a sore topic around here. You know that fight your dad had with Scott?”

“No.” 

“Well I mean, they’ve fought since they met. Literally since the first night they met. I was in the same class with Scott- but I was a little younger, so we were kinda close but never really bridged that gap- ya know? Scott is… difficult sometimes. Anyway, the reason this school is here, and the reason Scott made his own school, was that your old man and he got into this huge fight. Scott kinda sent kids out like soldiers and Logan said he couldn’t tell any more parents that their kids were dead. It caused a huge rift. So they split up the x-men basically. Then the phoenix force headed back for earth- ya I know. Fucking thing won’t leave us alone- right?” He smiles. “So it took over five x-men- which I bet you already know. The prof went to confront Scott and I don’t know if it was the Phoenix or if it was something in Scott, no one really knows- but he killed him. Not long after- your old man died. Scott went to jail, got broke out of jail, built his own school, then got himself killed. Phoenix fucked with us again and Jean came back- like the real Jean. Not long after that- you’re old man ALSO comes back. Then, Jean managed to bring Scott back. Typical x-men drama. Nothing big for us- as fucked up as that sounds. Now everyone seems to have settled down. Your dad and Scott kinda worked things out. Ororo and Jean really keep them from killing each other.  Everyone came back but the professor. But honestly- I think he would have wanted it that way.” 

“What happened to the other x-men?” I ask. 

"Illyana comes and goes- but mainly does her own thing. Emma up and disappeared- no one can find her, Piotr’s here- like you saw- but he misses Illyana more than he’s willing to admit. Namor can go fuck himself. We don’t care to know where he is. And Scott’s right here.”

“And the Phoenix?”

“Moved on to another host.” 

“And.. they’re controlling it well?” 

“He does his best,” Bobby says with a nod. “We’re not worried about the world ending or him going evil so… I guess we’re good.” 

“That is a lot to handle,” I say. 

“Yea.” Bobby nods. “Yea, it is.” 

“I’m surprised more of you aren’t in therapy.” I tease. 

“I’ll be honest- there’s this one guy who makes the rounds every now and then- he knows us pretty well.” he grins.  “Sooooooooo… that’s about seven years of x-men stuff.” He says. “What do you want to now?

“How about you explain to me what you’re doing here?” I ask as politely as I can manage.

“Yea- sure.” He nods. “They think you need some kind of aide. Someone to watch over you. I didn’t have anything better to do… and with our relationship being kept in mind…” 

“Relationship?”

“Well… yea.” He says kind of awkwardly. “I mean… we were talking about it and- it doesn’t have to be a real one if you don’t want. We can just be buddies. If you want. Ya know. Whatever you want to do… but I’d like-”

“I’d like that,” I say honestly, cutting him off. 

“Yea?”    


“But Logan’s never going to allow it.” 

Bobby takes my hand. “He doesn’t really get a choice in the matter.” He says. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I thought he’d scared you off,” I admit.

“Nah,” Bobby says. “Semi-spooked, but not scared off. I actually came back later- but you were already down here.” 

I nod. 

“I never played that music.” he laughs.

“Maybe next time.” I smile.    
  
“I’ll remember that you said that.” He says. “Next time is Fallout Boy and Paramore.” 

“I don’t know who either of those are.”

“Bands.” he laughs. “Kinda from my teenagehood.” 

“I’ll wait with baited breath.” I tease. 

There’s a knock on the door outside the room. 

"It’s Logan,” I tell him. “With… Oranges.” 

“I told him you’d eat fruit,” Bobby says. “I didn’t know he’d only bring one kind.”

“Oranges are fine,” I say as he opens the doors.    
  
“Breakfast.” He says, opening the curtains and walking over to the bed. 

“Thank you.” I take the wooden bowl from his hands and put it on my lap.    
  
“... you’re welcome.” He looks at me strangely. “What’s up with him? Why’s he so... pleasant?” he asks Bobby.    
  
“We.. uh... Had a good talk.” Bobby says with a smile. 

I nod. “A really good talk.”

“Okay… well… when you’re ready- you’ve got an appointment at 12 and you need to take your meds.” 

“We’ll be up after he eats,” Bobby says cheerfully. “I promise.” 

Logan nods. “Cool. See you upstairs then.”

I look down at the bowl of fruit. Not much in the way of calories, but I like them well enough.

My father leaves-a little confused if we’re being honest. 

I can’t help but smile. “You shocked him,” I say.    
  
“Oh, yea?”    
  
I nod. “He didn’t think you’d be able to contain me.” 

“Is it really containing if I just sit down and talk to you like a human being?” He teases. 

“It’s the best kind of containing.”    
  
Bobby smiles. “You uh... Should go on and eat.” 

I think I will. Without a fuss, at that.

Maybe working with Logan won’t be something I can stomach… but I can definitely do it for Bobby. Just for right now, at any rate. 


End file.
